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NOTES 


IN 


England  and  Italy. 


By   MRS.    NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 


;il«$trat^tt  ^ttttiuit* 


NEW   YORK : 

G.     P.     PUTNAIM'S      SONS 
London:    SAMPSON   LOW  &  CO. 


Entered  according  to  zVct  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869, 

By   G.  p.   PUTNAM  &  SON, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


John  F.  Tuovv  &  Son,  Puinters, 
205-213  East  i2Th  St.,  Nkw  Yokk. 


TO 


ELIZABETH     P .     P  E  A  B  0  D  Y 


®l]is  yohtmc  is  S3ebicnt£b, 


HER    SISTER, 


N 


S.    B 


\ 


PREFACE, 


I  THINK  it  necessary  to  say  tliat  tliese  "Notes," 
written  twelve  years  ago,  were  never  meant  for  pub- 
lication ;  but  solely  for  rny  own  reference,  and  for  a 
means  ol  recalling  to  my  friends  what  liad  especially 
interested  me  abroad.  Many  of  these  friends  have 
repeatedly  urged  me  to  print  them,  from  a  too  par- 
tial estimate  of  their  value ;  and  I  have  steadily 
resisted  the  suggestion,  until  now,  when  I  reluctantly 
yield.  If,  however,  they  will  aid  any  one  in  the 
least  to  enjoy,  as  I  have  enjoyed,  the  illustrious 
works  of  the  Great  Masters  in  Architecture,  Sculp- 
ture, and  Painting,  I  shall  be  well  repaid  for  the 
pain  it  has  cost  me  to  appear  before  the  public. 

S.  K 

Dresden,  August,  1869. 


CONTENTS 


ENGLAND. 

PAGB 

I.  Skipton  Castle. — Bolton  Priory. — York  Min- 
ster,         7 

II.  Lincoln  Cathedral, 31 

III.  Old  Boston  and  St.  Botolph's,        .        .        .50 

IV.  Peterboro  Cathedral, 69 

V.  Newstead  Abbey, 85 

VI.  On  the  Way  to  Scotland,    ....        106 


SCOTLAND. 

I.  Burns'  Region, 119 

II.  Glasgow, 146 

III.  Dumbarton, 156 

IV.  Loch  Lomond  and  the  Bens,      .        .        .  163 

V.  Inversnaid    and    Loch    Katrine    and    the 

Trosachs, 173 

VI.  Bridge  of  Allan, 190 


CONTENTS. 


ITALY. 

PAGE 

I.  Roman  Journal,  .        ^        .        .        .        .  '      .   197 

II.  Journey  of  eight  days  from  Rome  to  Flor- 
ence,       ........  295 

III.  Florence, .      336 

IV.  Returning  to  Rome,           .        .        ,        .        .  50G 
V.  Rome, ,        =        .      541 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Dumbarton  Castle, 

Frontispiece. 

York  Minster, 

PAGE   25 

Lincoln  Cathedral, 

"        32 

Peterborough  Cathedral,   . 

"        70 

Newstead  Abbey,    . 

.     .        "        90 

Port  Glasgow, 

"      146 

L-ocH  Lomond, 

•'      164 

Edinburgh,        .... 

"      194 

Florence,          .... 

.           .            "     336 

The  Coliseum, 

"      542 

isroTES  iisr  E:t^GLA:^D. 
I. 

SKIPTON   CASTLE.— BOLTON  PRIORY. 

Skipton,  Yokkshire,  April  10th. 

*  *  *  ^"  As  we  approaclied  Yorkshire,  we  found 
stone  walls  for  the  first  time  in  England,  instead  of 
green  hedges.  But  thej  were  nice  and  prettj  stone 
walls,  and  not  such  rude  structures  as  ours  in 
America.  The  stones  were  as  smooth  and  even  as 
those  of  a  house,  and  battlemented  along  the  top. 
After  the  low  sandhills  of  Southport,  it  was  truly 
refreshing  to  see  the  Yorkshire  Wolds.  (Wolds  is 
the  Yorkshire  name  for  hills.) 

We  saw  some  very  ugly,  small,  manufacturing 
towns  in  Lancashire,  in  which  I  do  not  understand 
how  any  one  can  consent  to  live.  In  one  was  a 
monument  that  seemed  to  be  erected  to  the  honor 
of  the  Smoke-Demon, — a  lofty,  symmetrical  stone 
column,  resting  on  a  square  base,  not  near  any 
manufactory ;  and  close  against  the  sky  a  long 
plume  of  black  smoke  continually  floated  from  its 
summit,  like  the  incense  of  a  bad  heart.  Dear  me  ! 
at  what  a  cost  come  forth,  so  clean  and  splendid,  all 
our  pretty  prints,  and  silks,  and  velvets !  How  is  it 
that  the  grimness  of  the  workmen  and  of  the  atmos-" 
phere  never  sullies  them  ?  They  look  as  if  the  tidiest 


8  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

of  fairies  fashioned  them   in  ivorj  palaces,  where 
there  is  never  a  stain  in  the  air. 

We  crossed  the  river  Darwen  twice,  and,  arrived 
at  Skipton  soon  after  five.  It  proves  a  larger  town 
than  I  thought,  and  is  beautifully  situated  in  a  hol- 
low between  thrice  three  hills.  We  found  a  tolerablj 
pretentious  station,  P4,nd  a  nice  man,  who  politely  at- 
tended us  to  what  he  called  "  a  'Bus,"  which  he  said 
belonged  to  the  first  hotel  in  town,  called  "  The 
Devonshire  Arms."     So  hither  we  drove.      It  was 

what  J considered  "  a  jolly  little  'Bus,"  being 

only  as  large  as  a  cab,  yet  the  seats  arranged  like 
those  of  omnibuses.  The  landlady,  glorious  in  cherry 
ribbons,  received  us  at  the  door,  and  ushered  us  up 
into  a  front  sitting-room,  comfortable  with  a  lounge, 
and  a  large  fireplace,  in  which  the  maid  soon  kin- 
dled a  blazing  fire. 

We  were  all  so  restored  by  our  refection,  that  we 
concluded  to  take  a  walk.  I  asked  the  maid  whether 
there  were  any  pleasant  places,  and  she  said,  "  Skip- 
ton  Woods  is  very  pleasant,  and  not  far  off."  So 
we  went  toward  Skipton  Woods ;  but  met  a  fine  old 
castle  on  the  way.  A  stout  John  Bull,  with  a  rubi- 
cund visage,  who  was  piously  pushing  his  child 
about  in  a  perambulator,  on  his  leisure  Good  Fri- 
day, I  took  the  liberty  to  accost.  I  asked  him 
whether  we  could  see  the  castle  ;  and  he  was  very 
smiling  and  kind,  and  replied,  "  Yes ;  as  it  was 
Good  Friday,  he  thought  we  could  :  that  the  family 
was  not  there,  but  the  housekeeper  was." 


8KIPT0N  CASTLE.  9 

So  we  entered  the  grand,  towered  gateway,  with 
"desgemais"  sculptured  in  open  stone-Avork  on  the 
top,  flanked  by  a  donjon-keep  on  each  side,  and 
found  ourselves  in  a  fine  park,  within  the  walls— 
a  small  park,  perhaps  a  garden  rather.  A  group  of 
girls,  keeping  holiday,  emerged  from  an  arch,  and  1 
asked  them  where  we  could  find  the  housekeeper. 
One  said  that  I  "  must  go  into  a  door  by  the  bushy 
trees."  These  "  bushy  trees"  were  mammoth  box- 
trees,  more  than  six  feet  high,  and  of  great  circum- 
ference, cut  in  the  shape  of  globes.  .  Lawn  and 
flower-clumps,  with  gravel  walks,  filled  the  enclosure, 
and  the  perpetual  ivy  climbed  the  inner  surface  of 
the  high  walls.  It  looked  very  inhabitable,  and  not 
vast,  like  the  environments  of  many  castles  we  have 
seen,  and,  though  stately,  not  a  kingdom,  as  is 
Knowesly.*  We  found  a  low-arched  door,  leading 
through  the  thickness  of  the  castle,  and  out  upon 
a  staircase  on  the  other  side,  high  above  a  moat. 
Looking  over,  we  saw  a  waterfall  and  a  stream  and 
clustering  trees,  far  down  beneath.  But,  alas !  this 
was  not  one  of  Nature's  waterfalls,  but  what  the 
housekeeper  called  "  a  wash"  only,  which  now  turns 
a  mill.  The  sound  of  rushing  water,  however,  was 
just  the  same,  and  very  refreshing.  We  ascended 
the  staircase,  and  at  my  knock,  a  neat,  florid,  thin 
w^oman  opened  the  door,  and  civilly  acceded  to  my 
request  to  be  shown  the  castle.     The  first  room  was 


*  The  Earl  of  Derby's  domain. 


10  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

the  housekeeper's  kitchen,  as  clean  and  bright  as 
possible.  Whatever  speck  of  dust  might  have  had 
the  rashness  to  think  of  settling  on  any  part  of  that 
immaculate  kitchen,  must  at  once  have  hidden  its 
diminished  head,  after  peeping  in.  It  was  scrubbed 
and  whitewashed  into  snow.  "We  followed  the  dame 
first  into  the  dining-room.  I  ought  to  tell  you,  how- 
ever, that  this  castle  was  built  in  1100,  and  for  five 
hundred  years  was  possessed  by  tho  Cliffords.  It 
was  erected,  soon  after  the  Norman  Conquest,  by 
Robert  de  Bomeli,  and  was  the  birthplace  of  the 
celebrated  Anne  Clifford,  Countess  of  Dorset,  of 
Pembroke,  and  of  Montgomery,  the  lady  having 
married  three  earls  successively  with  these  titles. 
Cromwell  battered  it  with  his  guns,  when  it  was 
garrisoned  for  Charles  I.,  and  we  saw  the  hill  where 
he  established  these  guns.  The  Countess's  last  de- 
scendant was  the  Earl  of  Thanet ;  and  the  present 
possessor  is  Sir  Richard  Tufton,  who  represents  the 
last  earl,  .One  portion  only  is  made  habitable. 
The  dining-room  was  lighted  at  one  end  by  a  bow- 
window,  set  with  small  panes.  It  was  hung  with 
crimson  and  white,  and  had  tables  and  sideboards 
of  oak,  and  the  ceiling  was  frescoed  in  arabesque 
patterns.  From  the  dining-room  we  went  up  a 
broad  staircase  into  the  drawing-room.  This  was 
the  size  of  the  whole  round  tower.  It  was  hiing 
with  gobelin  tapestry,  worked  by  the  ladies  of  the 
Clifford  family.  Over  the  fireplace  was  a  portrait 
of  Oliver  Cromwell,  in  early  manhood,  a  much  fairei 


SKIPTON  CASTLE.  11 

and  liandsomer  face   of  liim  than  I  liad  seen  be- 
fore. 

Two  portraits  of  tlie  renowned  Countess,  one  in 
perfect  womanhood  and  one  in  old  age,  also  adorned 
the  walls.  Opposite  the  fireplace  was  a  large  family 
picture  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  and  his  Duchess 
and  two  sons.  These  were  the  father  and  mother 
and  brothers  of  the  famous  Countess.  The  Duke 
was  in  armor,  and  just  taking  leave  for  a  battle ; 
and  his  wife  stands  pointing  to  her  children,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  What  will  they  do  without  their 
father  ?"  From^  the  very  broad  windows  of  this 
drawing-room  are  beautiful  views  of  the  hills  and 
country.  From  the  drawhig-room  we  ascended  to 
the  state  bedchamber.  This  was  quite  in  disarray. 
There  were  some  tall  folding-doors,  leaning  against 
the  walls,  which  once  adorned  the  dining-room,  and 
upon  them  the  Countess  v,'as  again  painted  in  full 
length  ;  and  round  her,  in  small  size,  hung  her  three 
husbands.  Here  also  was  a  little  child's  portrait,  in 
what  looked  to  have  been  once  a  gorgeous  dress, 
holding  an  apple  in  his  hand.  The  housekeeper 
said  that  his  lordship  had  choked  himself  to  death 
with  that  apple  ;  and  then. she  remarked,  "  He  was 
not  very  wise  !"  and  soon  she  added,  "  He  was  an 
idiot."  These  walls  also  w^ere  hung  with  gobelin 
tapestry,  representing  the  various  tortures  of  the 
Inquisition!  What  a  subject  for  art!  Crowds  of 
monks  and  nuns  were  present,  the  monks  and  famil- 
iars   administering  the   various   tortures,    and  the 


13  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

nuns  looking  on!  These  tapestries  T\ere  wrought 
by  nuns.  In  this  room  stood  a  chair  of  state,  a  sort 
of  throne  once  belonging  to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
and  so  we  sat  down  on  it.  It  was  superb  once  with 
richly  gilded  leather  and  crimson  cloth.  Two  bed- 
steads, without  furniture,  stood  on  one  side,  and  the 
housekeeper  said  they  were  memorable  for  some- 
thing, but  she  did  not  know  what.  No  doubt  some 
royal  personages  had  occupied  them  aforetime.  On 
the  floor,  against  the  wall,  stood  the  portrait  of  a 
young  girl,  a  sister  of  Cromwell.  We  do  not  know 
why  Cromwell  seems  to  prevail  in  the  castle.  Sir 
Bichard  Tufton  resides  mostly  in  Paris,  and  is  sel- 
dom here  except  for  a  few  days  at  a  time.  We  then 
passed  through  another  bedchamber,  furnished  as  if 
it  could  be  slept  in,  and  with  no  legend  to  it ;  and 
after  a  short  sojourn  again  in  the  dining-room,  we 
proceeded  to  the  more  ancient,  or  rather  unmodern- 
ized,  parts  of  the  castle  ; — to  the  guard-room,  kitch- 
ens, apartments  with  no  distinctive  name,  and  to  the 
vast  judgment-hall,  where  now,  once  a  year,  the 
tenants  dine.  The  fireplace  is  enormous,  and  along 
the  entire  length  Avas  a  row  of  chandeliers  to  light 
the  revellers.  We  crept  up  a  narrow,  dark  stairway 
to  the  roof  of  one  tower,  and  had  a  splendid  view  of 
the  whole  country.  Skipton  is  in  quite  a  hollow — 
in  an  amphitheatre  of  high  hills.  From  the  battle- 
ments J stooped,  and  plucked  a  branch  of  a  tall, 

old  yew-tree  (a  bit  of  which  I  enclose).  It  is  eight 
hundred  years  old. 


SKIPTON  CASTLE.  .  13 

p.  S.— It  is  noon  of  Saturday  the  lltli.  '  We  Lave 
just  returned  from  Bolton  Abbey,  and  are  oii  the 
wing  for  York.  We  x^assed  through  an  inner  court 
of  Skipton  Castle,  in  the  centre  of  which  the  great 
ancient  yew-tree  stands.  By  the  side  of  it  is  a  very 
old  stone  font.  Over  the  pointed  arched  doors  are 
the -escutcheons  of  the  Cliffords  and  of  the  Earl  of 
Tlianet,  carved  in  stone.  Green,  damp  moss  covers 
the  stones  of  the  pavement  and  the  old,  old  walls. 
One  grander  arched  doorway  opens  from  what  was 
once  the  chief  entrance,  noAV  closed  up.  We  peeped 
down  the  dungeons,  but  did  not  descend  into  them. 
The  castle  is  lower  than  any  other  I  have  seen,  only 
three  stories  high ! 

So  we  returned  to  our  hotel,  and  found  a  glorious 
fire,  and  an.  extraordinary  bookcase  of  books ;  for 
these  books  are  choice.  There  is  Pickering's  beau- 
tiful edition  of  Spenser,  a  grand  volume  of  all  Scott's 
poems,  including  our  long-sought  Bridal  of  Trier- 
main  ;  many  old  standard  English  works,  Sterne, 
etc. ;  American  novels  too,  "  The  Wide,  Wide  World," 
and  "  Queechy,"  ah  me  !  and  every  variety— science, 
poetry,  romance,  essays.     Good-bye. 


14  MOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

Leeds  April  11th. 
My  deae : 

We  arrived  at  this  unlovely  town  at  three, 

and  we  have  lunched  and  walked  out  a  few  moments, 

and  we   have   seen  a  statue   of    Sir  Robert  Peel. 

Everything  is  grimy  in  Leeds,  and  poor  Sir  Robert 

looks  like  a  collier.     We  did  not  know  which  way  to 

turn,  nothing  looking  inviting,  and  so  I  thought  I 

would  write  to  jou,  sitting  at  a  very  big  table,  in  a 

very  big  ladies'  saloon.     It  w^as  a  pleasant  country 

from  Skipton  to  Leeds,  through  the  valley  of  the 

Aire,  a  narrow  river,  which  serpentines  about  so 

much   that  we   crossed  it   five  or  six  times.     All 

around  are  high  hills,  one  of   them  a  picturesque 

crag,  which  I  thought  to  be  a  castle,  but  found  it 

was  only  a  group  of  rocks  called  the  Druids'  Altar. 

No  more  time. 

ToEK. — The  Black-Swan  Hotel — 8  o'clock,  evening. 
Here  ^ve  are,  then,  safe  and  comfortable  in  this  old- 
est of  cities — rather,  this  exceeding  old  city — this 
walled  Boman  town,  with  its  glorious  Minster,  and 
on  the  eve  of  Easter  Sunday.  We  have  had  "  the 
Queen's  weather  ""  all  the  time,  and  the  sun  shone 
cheerfully  as  we  drove  beneath  the  great  arch  under 
the  walls.  But  now  I  must  go  back  to  Bolton  Ab- 
bey.    We  stepped  into  our  barouche  at  teuv     J 

*  As  Her  Majesty  usually  has  fine  weather  when  she  travels 
or  appears  on  any  great  day,  a  fair  clay  is  called  "  the  Queen's 
weather." 


THE  PRIORY.  15 

begged  to  mount  the  box  with  the  coachman,  so  I 
wrapped  him  in  papa's  great  gray  shawl,  and  the 
white  horses  started  on  our  winding  way.  "We 
drove  by  Skipton  Castle's  strong  walls,  and  I  ob- 
served the  lower  part  of  a  tower,  with  its  buttresses 
at  one  angle  ;  but  the  upper  portion  lias  fallen.  The 
Yorkshire  wolds  looked  bare  and  hard  after  the 
lovely,  soft  forms  of  the  southern  countries  ;  but 
they  are  mostly  cultivated,  and  present  delicious, 
green  tints  of  that  golden,  sunny  shade  which  we 
so  often  see  in  English  lawns. 

The  orderly  stone-walls  help  to  give  a  hard  ex- 
pression to  the  country.-  I  hoped  there  were  no 
such  things  in  England.  They  look  unsympathiziug 
and  surly,  and  as  if  they  bruised  nature's  fair  face. 
The  roads  were  so  up-and-down-wise,  that  the  coach- 
man was  perpetually  putting  on  and  taking  off  the 
drag. 

At  last  we  approached  the  Priory.  First  we  saw 
an  old  inn,  apparently  very  old,  and  called  "  Devon- 
shire Arms  ;"  but  we  did  not  stop  there.  It  was  but 
six  miles  that  we  had  come,  and  the  horses  could 
perfectl}^  well  take  us  to  the  Abbey  before  resting. 
Therefore  we  went  on,  and  drew  up  at  the  "  Hole-in- 
the-wall."  Through  this  Hole — a  rough  gateway — • 
we  entered  the  enchanting  valley  of  the  Wharfe.  It 
is  said  to  be  the  loveliest  situation,  as  regards  natu- 
ral beauty,  Avithout  help  from  art,  which  is  to  be 
seen  in  England.  It  is  indeed  of  wonderful  beauty. 
Soft,  velvet,   rolling  lawns,   round   three   parts   of 


16  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

which  flows  the  Wharfe,  quite  a  broad,  clear  ri^'er. 
Its  l)anks  are  high,  and  on  the  side  opposite  the 
lawns  rise  into  loftj  hills,  and  down  one  of  these  a 
silver  waterfall  made  dehcious  music.  As  in  all 
these  monastic,  retreats,  we  seemed,  after  entering 
the  gates,  in  a  safe  paradise,  with  the  world  shut 
out,  and  the  peace  of  heaven  around  us.  No  sound 
but  of  silver  waterfalls  and  songs  of  birds.  How 
Avell  the  old  abbots  and  priors  knew  where  to  crys- 
tallize their  magnificent  ideas  of  state,  repose,  and 
worshijD  into  stone  !  Thomas  a  Kempis  might  here 
have  written  his  divine  sentences,  each  one  so  like  a 
translucent  drop  of  that  singing,  shining  fall. — in- 
cluding also  the  infinite  serenity  of  the  lawns,  and 
the  slumbering  sunshine's  dim  gold.  These  lawns 
went  waving  far  away,  till  they  were  lost  in  a  broad 
gleam  of  the  river,  toward  the  west ;  and  again  be- 
yond the  river  rose  the  hills,  so  as  to  shut  all  in  se- 
curely from  earthly  confusion.  The  ruins  are  at  the 
eastern  extremity  of  the  site.  Of  the  Abbey,  in 
which  the  priors  and  monks  lived,  not  an  atom,  not 
a  crumb  remains  standing,  except  one  mighty  chim- 
ney, with  its  fireplace.  All  alone  and  apart  it 
stands,  the  hearth-stone  even  gone. 

April  12th. — I  did  not  bring  my  sketch-book  ;  and, 
to  be  sure,  if  I  had,  there  would  not  have  been  time 
to  accomplish  anything  with  the  pencil,  but  yet  it 
seemed  impossible  to  leave  the  spot  without  some 
record.  I  should  like  to  have  drawn  each  transept, 
and  the  beautiful  chancel,  with  its  superb,  arched 


BOLTON  PRIORY.  17 

window,  yet  not  to  be  compared  to  that  of  Furnesa 
Abbe}''.  One  or  two  lovely  pinnacles  were  left  in 
this  part,  from  which  the  ivy  hung  in  wreaths,  with 
a  marvellous  grace. 

We  went  to  the  edge  of  the  banks  of  the  Wharfe 
to  look  at  the  whole  effect  of  the  church,  and  we 
found  the  banks  delightfully  steep,  and  the  river  ot 
really  good  width — a  fresh,  clear,  enchanting  river. 
It  is  a  favorite  place  for  anglers,  for  of  course  the 
monks  wished  for  nice  fish  for  Fridays  and  Lent, 
and  selected  their  dwelling-place  accordingij^  We 
saw  some  of  the  world's  young  men  enter  by  the 
"  Hole-in-the-wall,"  with  basket  and  line,  and  dis- 
appear among  the  rich  undulations  of  the  lawn 
toward  the  west,  while  we  stood  by  the  church. 
After  examining  the  ruined  chancel  and  transepts, 
we  found  a  man  to  open  for  us  the  porch  and  nave. 
The  nave  is  still  used  for  services.  I  saw  the  most 
ancient  of  men,  with  another  more  modern-looking 
person,  digging  in  a  small  enclosure,  and  I  asked 
for  a  showman.  The  ancient,  who  was  a  bundle  of 
wrinkles,  held  together  by  a  velvet  jacket  and  small- 
clothes, rested  on  his  spade,  and  gazed  at  me  out 
of  his  queer  little  eyes,  but  spoke  never  a  v^^ord. 
He  resembled  one  of  the  gothic  gnrgoyles  v/hich 
are  carved  on  the  cloisters  and  at  the  springing 
of  the  arches  of  cathedrals.  A  very  cheerful, 
jolly  verger  came,  with  his  key,>  from  a  house 
quite  near  the  ruin,  and  a  great  blemish  to  the 
scene.     We    entered   the   nave,   which    is    entirely 


18  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

peculiar  in  my  experience ;  for  it  has  column  & 
only  on  one  side,  heavy,  vast  columns, — and  but 
three,  supporting  almost  round  arches,  so  that  to 
me  it  looked  like  half  a  nave,  or  a  church  cut  down 
the  middle  and  half  gone.  Five  or  six  tall  windows, 
filled  with  brilliantly  painted  glass,  were  opposite 
the  columns.  The  roof  was  of  unceiled,  dark  oak, 
with  carved,  heraldic  devices  at  the  crossings  of 
the  vaulted  arches.  Over  the  altar  was  an  oil-paint- 
ing of  Christ  bearing  the  cross,  very  poor ;  and 
upon  the  altar  hung  a  heavy,  crimson  velvet  cloth, 
just  like  a  palL  On  one  side  of  the  altar  was  a 
small  chapel,  under  which  bodies  were  found  buried 
iipright.  Wordsworth  probably  referred  to  this 
when  he  sung, 

"  Look  clown  and  see  a  grisly  sight — 
A  vault,  where  the  corpses  are  buried  upright ; 
There,  face  by  face,  and  hand  to  hand. 
The  Clapliams  aiid  Mauleverers  stand. 
And  there,  in  his  place,  betwixt  son  and  sire, 
Stands  John  de  Clapham,  that  fierce  Esquire, 
A  valiant  man  and  a  man  of  dread. 
In  the  ruthless  wars  of  the  White  and  Red ; 
Who  dragged  Earl  Pembroke  from  Banbury  church, 
And  smote  off  his  head  on  the  stones  of  the  porch." 

No  other  chapel  is  left  entire.  There  is  a  part  of 
a  piscina  remaining  in  that  one.  After  we  had  seen 
everything  else,  the  verger  went  mysteriously  into  a 
private  nook,  and  with  tender  care  brought  out  two 
pieces  of  ancient,  painted  glass.  On  one  was  a 
lamb,  and  on  the  other  a  dragon.      The  colors  were 


BOLTON  PRIORY.  10 

of  wonderful  riclmess,  especially  tlie  greens,  like  tlie 
soul  of  an  emerald.  There  was  one  stain  of  ruby- 
red,  also  very  gorgeous,  and  a  yellow,  like  sunshine. 
I  wish  I  could  have  taken  at  least  the  lamb ;  but, 
dear  me  !  I  might  as  well  have  laid  my  head  on  the 
block  at  once.  It  seems  papa  was  in  fear  that  I 
would  drop  this  lamb  on  the  stone  pavement,  at 
which  catastrophe  he  looked  to  have  the  great  nave 
explode,  and  blow  us  all  into  fragments.  But  both 
bits  were  safely  restored  to  their  hiding-places,  and 
then  we  were  invited  into  a  tiny  vestry,  and  re- 
quested to  record  our  names.  The  man,  with  great 
pride,  exhibited  to  me,  in  a  former  volume  of  names, 
that  of  the  late  queen  Adelaide.  I  asked  where 
Victoria's  was,  but  he  said  Her  Majesty  had  never 
been  there.  In  the  porch  lay  several  finely  sculp- 
tured bits  of  stone,  and  one  of  them  was  beautified 
with  moss  in  a  marvellous  manner. 

Certainly  beauty  seems  to  haunt  these  old  abbeys, 
and  to  place  her  magic  finger,  in  especial  love, 
where  decay  encroaches.  My  earnest  hope  always 
is  that  all  may  remain  as  now.  This  church  and 
property,  for  six  miles,  belongs  to  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire,  and  it  is  a  perpetual  curacy.  He  skil- 
fully restores  a  little  at  times  to  keep  it  extant,  and 
if  he  would  only  raze  the  house  I  mentioned  as 
being  a  blemish,  and  would  kindly  demolish  the 
modern  part  of  his  own  hunting-lodge,  I  could  ask 
no  more  of  him.  The  centre  of  this  hunting-lodge 
is  the  Yery  grand  old  gateway  of  the  Priory,  which 


20  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

would  look  altogether  magnificent  if  it  stood  alone, 
as  it  onglit.  But  tlie  duke  has  built  two  wings  of 
apartments,  of  no  particular  order  of  architecture, 
and  of  a  most  impertinent,  brave  newness.  How 
his  grace  could  be  so  wanting  in  taste  and  sense  of 
fitness,  I  cannot  imagine.  If  I  had  been  a  fairj, 
v,'ith  a  wand,  not  one  moment  longer  would  those 
intrusive,  yellow  wings  have  spread  themselves  out 
on  either  side  the  stately  gateway,  as  if  to  fly  away 
with  it.  It  should  again  become  the  entrance  to 
the  grounds  ;  and  after  that  were  accomplished,  my 
wand  should  annihilate  every  trace  of  the  dwelling- 
house.  It  was  the  greatest  pity  in  the  world,  that 
'we  had  not  time  to  go  to  the  Strid,  a  narrow  pas- 
sage rent  by  the  river  "Wharfe  through  a  bed  of 
solid  rock.  It  was  there  that  the  boy  Egremont 
was  drowned,  of  whom  Wordsworth  speaks  in  the 
poem  called  "  The  White  Doe  of  Eylstone."  Also 
he  has  written  a  poem,  "  The  Force  of  Prayer  ;  or, 
the  Founding  of  Bolton  Priory,"  in  which  is  the 
story  of  this  disaster. 

"  Young  Eomilly  throngli  Borden  Woods 
Is  ranging  high  and  low ; 
And  holds  a  greyhound  in  a  leash 
To  let  slip  upon  buck  or  doe. 

"  The  pair  have  reached  that  fearful  chasm, 
How  tempting  to  bestride  ! 
The  lordly  Wharfe  is  there  pent  in 
With  rocks  on  ciihcr  side. 

"  The  Striding-place  is  called  The  Stred, 
A  name  which  it  took  of  yore : 


BOLTON  PIUORT.  21 

A  thonsf\nd  years  lias  it  borne  tliat  name, 
And  shall  a  tliousand  more. 

"  And  hither  is  yonug  Eomilly  come  ; 
And  what  may  noAV  forbid 
That  he,  perhaps  for  the  lumdredth  time, 
Shall  bound  ac-ross  The  Stuid  ? 

"  lie  sprang  in  glee,  for  what  cared  he 
That  the  river  was  strong,  and  the  rocks  were  steep? 
—But  the  greyhound  in  the  leash  hung  back, 
And  checked  him  in  his  leap. 

"  The  boy  is  in  the  arms  of  Wharfe, 
And  strangled  by  a  merciless  force ; 
Tor  never  more  was  young  Romilly  seen 
Till  he  rose  a  lifeless  corse." 

And  so  his  mother  founded  this  Priory  in  memory 
of  her  sorrow.  The  Strid  was  but  a  mile  from  the 
Abbey,  but  our  hour  vras  spent,  and  we  were  obliged 
to  lose  it,  as  well  as  a  ruined  fortress  of  the  Cliffords, 
near  by. 

Thus  we  left  this  paradise  through  the  "  Hole-in- 
the-wall  ;"  and  as  our  barouche  had  not  come,  we 
walked  on,  and  sent  J to  order  it  to  be  in  readi- 
ness at  the  inn  upon  our  arrival  there. 

There  was  a  thousand-year-old  yew-tree  in  the 
road,  with  enormous  gnarled  trunk  ;  and  on  one  side 
the  head  of  a  great  lion  has  grown  out — a  very  per- 
fect head,  viewed  from  one  side.  The  mouth  is 
open,  and  some  wag  has  put  between  its  gaping 
jaws  a  large,  flat,  oval  paving-stone,  to  represent  a 
tongue.  It  would  be  better  away,  for  doubtless  the 
old  lien  is  roaring,  and  there  is  no  occasion  for  a 


22  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

tongue  lopping  out,  like  that  of  a  thirsty  clog.  It 
loolvs  as  if  it  were  cut  by  art,  it  is  so  expressive,  and 
a  sort  of  yellow  moss  represents  the  mane. 

The  carriage  met  us  before  we  arrived  at  the  inn, 
and  just  before  a  few  diamond  drops  fell  through 
the  sunshine.  Our  carriage  was  filled  up  from  Skip- 
ton  to  Castlefort.  At  Castlefort  several  persons 
alighted,  and  at  another  station  we  took  in  a  man 
who  told  us  a  great  deal.  He  pointed  out  to  us  the 
beautiful  ruins  of  Kirkstall  Abbey,  this  side  of  Leeds, 
very  near  the  railway  track.  If  it  ever  had  seclu- 
sion, it  is  open  to  the  tumult,  noise,  and  grimness  of 
the  world  now,  just  on  the  wayside.  What  an  ob- 
ject was  Leeds  !  Thousands  of  monumental  chim- 
nej^s  belching  the  blackest,  foulest  smoke — the  at- 
mosphere laden  with  abominations— multitudes  of 
churches,  endeavoring  to  shoot  up  their  spires  and 
tower  above  defilement — endless  rows  of  ugly  houses 
for  the  work-people — not  a  handsome  house  for  am^- 
bod}^ — piles  of  manufactories,  heaps  of  coal  and 
brick  and  rubbish  of  all  kinds — and  a  hopeless  look 
of  there  being  no  end  to  it,  and  that  nothing  could 
ever  be  clean  any  more.  This  was  Leeds,  as  we 
saw  it,  till  we  rushed  into  an  enormous  station,  and 
could  see  nothing  else  for  the  present. 

Five  minutes  after  four,  we  came  on  to  York. 
The  country  grew  very  much  flatter  as  we  approached 
the  city.  Vast  plains  stretched  out  on  every  side, 
so  unvarying,  that  I  began  to  read  the  "  Illustrated 
Times."     Before  this,  however.  I  observed  that  the 


YORK.— THE  CATHEDRAL.  28 

bircli-trees  had  put  fortli  tlieir  pale,  lovely,  green 
leaves,  which  rejoiced  my  heart.  I  read  till  I  was 
summoned  to  see  the  walls  of  York,  and  immedi- 
ately the  train  was  swallowed  up  in  a  station  three 
times  as  large  as  that  at  Leeds.  We  entered  through 
the  Tudor  arch.  A  cabman,  with  a  face  exactly  like 
dough  Just  beginning  to  become  bread,  still  quite 
white,  took  us  to  the  "  Black  Swan,"  which  he 
affirmed  was  one  of  the  best  York  hotels.  The 
Black  Swan  arches  its  dusky  neck  over  the  door, 
and  the  landlady,  in  trailing  black-silk  robes,  enact- 
ed the  Black  Swan  in  the  hall,  and  consigned  us  to 
a  maid,  who  was  to  show  us  our  rooms.  We  had 
a  nice  large  parlor,  with  a  bow-window ;  and  two 
chambers  contiguous,  and  a  good  little  dressing- 
room  with  a  fireplace. 

April  13th. — We  ordered  a  sort  of  dinner-tea,  and 
then  walked  out  on.  Saturday  evening  to  look  at 
the  Cathedral — outside,  at  least.  It  is  quite  near  the 
Black  Swan.  I  was  at  first  disappointed  that  it  was 
not  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  close,  like  Salisbury  Ca- 
thedral, because  it  was  nearly  impossible  to  get  a 
complete  view  of  it  all  at  once.  It  is  mighty  in  size, 
and  needs  a  respectful  distance  from  which  to  view 
it ;  and  I  had  an  idea  that  its  spires  pierced  the 
stars,  and  found  that  they  seemed  low  in  proportion 
to  tlie  extent  of  the  building.  Here  my  growling 
ends.  It  is  sufficiently  magnificent  to  satisfy  any 
reasonable  mortal.  York  should  not  have  crowded 
rou^d  it  so  intrusively.     On  one  side  only  is  there 


24  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

any  space,  and  therein  stand  the  houses  of  the 
Dean  and  of  the  resident  Canon,  one  of  them  quite 
pahatiaL  I  think  it  was  the  Dean  who  cleared  away 
this  breathing-place,  thanks  be  to  his  memory.  It 
is  wonderful  how  much  these  stupendous  works  owe 
to  individuals.  The  exterior  is  all  incrusted  with 
sculptures,  gurgoyles,  and  statues.  Yet  there  are 
innumerable  niches  and  stalls  with  no  statues.  Some 
may  have  fallen,  but  some  were  never  filled.  I  hope 
a  future  Archbishop  or  Dean  may  fill  them  all,  be- 
cause it  would  make  it  so  gorgeously  rich.  Fretted 
pinnacles  rise  from  every  part,  and  borders  of  foliage 
and  arabesque  mouldings,  and  very  singular  project- 
ing figures — animals  ancl  human  half-forms,  rushing 
out  horizontally  like  waterspouts.  An  old  man  ac- 
costed us  before  the  south  entrance,  and  asked  us 
if  we  had  ever  seen  their  fiddler.  Thinking  he  must 
mean  some  poor  ancient,  still  alive,  we  told  him  we 
had  not  time  to  see  him  now,  it  was  so  late  in  the 
evening.  "  Oh,  but  you  must  look  at  him,"  lie ' 
urged,  hobbling  along  before  us ;  and  when  we  were 
at  the  right  spot,  he  turned  and  pointed  to  the 
highest  pinnacle  over  the  marigold  window.  There, 
to  be  sure,  in  remote  solitude,  stood  the  fiddler, 
with  his  fiddle  snug  under  his  left  ear,  and  the  bow 
in  his  right  hand.  I  do  not  know  how  many  feet  he 
really  measures,  but  he  looks  about  eighteen  inches 
high.  "  Many  a  person  comes  to  York,"  said  the 
old  man,  "  who  never  sees  the  fiddler." 

So,  then,  we  came  home  to  dinner,  and  were  served 


s^za^  6f    ''1^i4:^7Ky  ^tzM^sa^?ti>^ 


YOBK  MINSTER.  5i{) 

by  a  grave  butler,  instead  of  by  a  maid  as  at  Skip- 
toii ;  having  been  received  at  the  door,  also,  by  a 
youthful  waiter  with  immaculate  neck-tie,  shining 
hair,  and  spotless  black  body-coat. 

The  Black  Swan  haunts  the  hall  and  staircases, 
and  whenever  I  meet  her  she  says  some  polite  thing ; 
but  she  is  not  lovely,  and  I  think  she  makes  even 
the  grave  butler  hop  and  run  sometimes  ;  for  she  is 
evidently  a  fierce  swan,  beneath  her  folding  shawl 
and  long  train. 

We  were  requested,  of  course,  to  write  our  names 
in  a  book ;  and  behold,  we  found  the  names  of  two 
or  three  hundred  Americans  in  it ;— the  Nortons  of 
Cambridge,  the  Quincys  and  Wares  and  Water- 
stons,  Mr.  Frank  Peabody  of  Salem,  and  multitudes 
of  New  York  people,  and  others.  Finally,  we  found 
that  it  was  a  book  for  American  names  only,  and  no 
English  ones  at  all  were  admitted. 

On  Easter  Sunday,  then,  we  went  to  York  Minster 
at  half-past  ten.  I  had  time  hardly  to  cast  a  hurried 
glance  before  a  verger  took  possession  of  us,  and 
asked  if  we  wished  to  attend  the  services.  As  this , 
was  what  we  came  all  the  way  to  York  to  do,  we 
said  "  Yes,"  and  he  took  us  into  the  choir,  beneath 
the  superb  stone  screen,  over  which '  is  the  grand 
organ. 

But  now  we  are  ofT  for  Manchester,  where  I  will 
write  you  the  rest  of  our  experiences. 

2 


26  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

IMai^chestek,  April  13tli.    Palatine  Hotel. 

We  arrived  in  this  great  emporium  of  soot  and 
mire  at  a  quarter  to  eight.     It  is  after  nine  now. 

and   we   have   taken   tea,    and   J has   retired, 

"  twice  homesick,"  as  he  said.  I  suppose  he  meant, 
once  after  his  anemones,  and  once  after  you  and 
baby.  This  is  a  giant  hotel,  so  far  as  I  could  see  in 
the  dusk,  and  there  was  a  perfect  bouquet  of  waiters, 
in  white  cravats,  blooming  in  the  lobby  and  hall  as 
we  entered.  But  I  must  return  to  the  choir  of  York 
Minster,  where  I  left  you  this  morning. 

The  old  verger  said  I  must  go  one  way  and  papa 
another,  and  he  proceeded  to  put  me  into  a  nice, 
cushioned  seat,  close  by  the  choristers.  .  But  I  told 
him  I  had  a  very  noisy  cough,  and  preferred  not  to 
sit  where  I  might  disturb  the  dignitaries  and  wor- 
shippers; so  he  allowed  me  to  go  my  own  way, 
which  was  far  along  toward  the  high  altar,  where  I 
sat  down  in  full  view  of  the  whole  assembly,  and  in 
a  much  better  position  to  hear  the  music.  I  did 
not  see  Avhat  was  done  with  papa  for  a  great  while. 
It  was  fifteen  minutes  before  the  sermon  began,  and 
so  I  had  time  to  gaze  about  me.  The  choir  is  very 
beautiful — the  tabernacle-work  and  stalls  of  richly- 
carved  oak,  but  modern,  because  the  ancient  choir 
was  burnt  in  1829.  It  is  not  to  be  compared  noio  to 
the  tabernacle-work  of  the  choir  of  Chester  Cathe- 
dral. That  came  out  of  the  love  and  souls  of  the 
carvers,  who  made  it  an  act  of  devotion.      Still,  es- 


YORK  MINSTER.  27 

ceedingl}^  beautiful,  however,  looking  like  climbing 
flames,  as  it  always  does'.  The  organ,  exactly  op- 
posite me,  was  one  large  cluster  of  aspiring  pinna- 
cles, of  the  same  rich  oak  as  the  stalls,  and  of  the 
same  design.  There  is  no  appearance  of  an  organ- 
ist, or  of  human  agency  about  that  instrument.  I 
did  see  a  man  hover  for  a  moment  in  a  gallery  on 
one  side  of  it,  but  he  was  instantly  swallowed  up  in 
the  blazing  spires.  It  is  much  better  so,  than  to 
see  any  one  laboring  away  to  produce  the  sound  ol 
soft  recorders,  or  of  jubilee  or  thunder,  as  the  case 
may  be.  Every  finely-sculptured  point  of  the  thou- 
sand ascending  upward,  seemed  to  quiver  wdth 
praise  and  thanksgiving.  The  cathedral  itself  burst 
forth  in  anthems. 

Not  quite  half-way  between  us  and  the  organ 
were,  on  one  side,  the  pulpit  where  the  Canon 
preaches,  and  on  the  other,  the  archbishop's  throne. 
It  is  St.  Peter's  church,  and  on  the  crimson  velvet 
drapery  of  the  pulpit  the  keys  were  embroidered 
in  gold.  The  pulpit  and  throne  Avere  of  carved  oak, 
of  the  same  tabernacle-work,  as  light  and  airy  as 
fire.  A  screen,  of  the  same  delicately-sculptured 
^oak,  shut  in  the  whole  central  aisle  of  the  choir  from 
the -side  aisles,  the  pointed,  narrow  arches  being 
filled  with  the  finest  plate-glass,  so  that  when  the 
heavy  crimson-cloth  curtain  fell,  like  a  portcullis, 
from  the  upper  groove  of  the  entrance,  a  really 
comprehensible  space  was  enclosed,  provided  one 
did  not  look  upward ;    for  then  the  lofty  vaulting, 


28  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

higher  even  than  that  of  the  nave,  suggested  ideas 
of  the  incomprehensible  infinite,  dissipating  the 
sense  of  snugness  forever.  Directly  behind  the  al- 
tar, a  stone  screen  completed  the  enclosure,  and  also 
obstructed  the  viev/  of  the  east  window.  But  with 
that  I  had  nothing  to  do  then. 

At  last  the  intoning  of  the  usual  service  began, 
and  the  young  choristers  mingled  their  clear,  airy 
voices.  I  do  not  know  as  I  can  give  you  any  idea 
of  the  ejQtect  of  the  echoes  in  those  spaces.  Every 
tone  was,  as  it  were,  the  root  or  stem  of  a  mighty 
tree  of  multitudinous  branches  of  sound,  which,  as 
it  issued  from  the  lips,  was  taken  up  by  the  vast 
arches  and  lofty  vaultings,  as  the  tree  expands  into 
the  heavens,  and  the  echoes  of  the  echoes  were  like 
a  thousand  birds  singing  on  the  branches.  In  the 
branches,  musical  Avinds  mingled  with  the  bird- 
songs,  making  soft  thunder  of  the  leaves,  rising, 
falling,  spreading,  intervolving,  receding,  and  again 
returning  in  full,  broad  diapason.  I  had  no  book 
with  which  to  follow^  the  clergyman  and  people,  and 
perhaps  it  was  better  so.  The  majestic  minster 
was  "  instant  in  prayer,"  and  jubilant  with  praise. 
Man  did  a  little,  but  the  cathedral  effected  far  more. 
The  chanting  of  young  boys  is  unlike  any  other 
sound  in  the  Avorld.  It  is  not  at  all  like  women's 
voices,  though  sweet  and  delicate  like  their  sweetest 
and  most  delicate  tones.  It  is  that  and  something 
more.  I  always  wonder  if  it  is  not  like  angels' 
voices.     The  anthems  of  joy  for  the  resurrection 


YORK  MINSTEB.  29 

•were  most  glorious.  All  at  oiiee  one  of  the  vergers 
came  from  the  choir,  with  a  silver  mace  on  his 
shoulder,  preceding  a  personage  Avhom  I  supposed 
to  be  the  Archbishop,  for,  as  it  was  Easter  Sunday, 
he  must  be  there.  This  priest  had  a  Koman  pro- 
file,— was  tall,  and  dressed  in  white,  with  the  black 
mantle,  or,  I  should  say,  in  a  dalmatica  and  stole. 
Two  others  followed  him  in  the  same  costume. 
They  came  toward  the  altar,  and  passed  me  as  they 
went  to  the  communion-table. 

The  verger  saw  I  had  no  book,  and  gave  me  one  ; 
and  a  portion  of  the  Holy  Communion  service  was 
read  by  the  tall  and  reverend  person,  whom  I  took 
for  the  Secundate  of  allEngiand  (the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  being  the  Primate).  His  voice  was  not 
good  ;  but  the  echoes  took  the  words,  as  alwaj-s, 
and  glorified  the  intonations.  Another,  perhaps  the 
Dean,  now  repeated  a  prayer,  and  his  accents  were 
nobler,  and  produced  a  grander  reverberation.  When 
he  had  finished,  another  anthem  burst  forth,  and 
this  was  the  most  wonderful  of  all.  It  was  a  wail- 
ing of  plaintive  sorrow,  as  if  expressing  the  Passion 
of  Christ ;  and  when  he  "  gave  up  the  ghost,"  the 
cathedral  was  filled  with  thunder, — rolling  from  the 
organ  as  from  a  cloud,  and  then  caught  up  and 
repeated,  folding  and  unfolding  afar  off — scarcely 
dj'ing  away  before  another  peal  from  the  organ 
again  rolled  forth.  So  with  soft,  pathetic  plainings, 
and  deep,  thunderous  moans,  his  passion,  cruci- 
fixion, and  death  Avere  sung ;  but  when  he  rose  !  the 


30  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

whole  power  of  joy  and  triumpli  was  expressed  bj 
voice  and  instrument.  The  magnificent,  painted 
windows  blazed  anew  with  their  rainbow  colors, 
and  it  was  all  light,  splendor,  hope,  and  joj.  This 
should  have  closed  the  services,  for  there  was  noth- 
ing more  appropriately  to  be  done.  But  now  the 
verger  attended  the  Archbishop  to  the  pulpit,  and 
he  began  to  preach !  And  since  he  presumed  to 
speak,  one  would  think  that  on  such  a  day,  in  such 
a  cathedral,  exalted  by  such  music,  he  might  have 
spoken  inspired  words.  But,  alas  !  it  was  the  emp- 
tiest, flattest,  stupidest  sermon  that  ever  was  pro- 
nounced, though  the  theme,  of  course,  was  the 
Resurrection.  This  heavy  exordium  lasted  about 
twenty  minutes.  Any  one  of  the  glorious  windov>^s, 
full  of  saints  and  prophets  in  crimson  and  gold  and 
emerald,  preached  a  more  edifying  sermon,  and  I 
endeavored  to  get  what  good  I  could  from  those 
I  could  see ;  but  the  discourse  came  to  an  end,  and 
we  came  forth  into  the  nave,  and  met  papa,  who 
had  been  put  into  one  of  the  prebend's  stalls. 

We  could  not  be  shown  the  cathedral  on  Sunday, 
and  therefore  we  came  home.  I  ought  to  say  that 
the  Archbishop  of  York,  I  find,  was  not  there,  and 
that  it  was  a  Canon  who  addressed  the  people,  and 
had  the  Roman  profile. 


LINCOLN  CATHEDBAL.  31 

II. 

LINCOLN  CATHEDEAL. 

May  22d. 

Here  we  are,  safely  arrived  in  this  old  cathe- 
dral city,  after  about  seven  hours'  rush  from  your 
presence  at  the  Southport  station.  Fancy  how 
beautiful  it  was  the  moment  we  left  the  frowsy  sand- 
hills of  our  seaside,  and  found  ourselves  in  the  ver- 
dant coimtry,  in  this  first  bloom  of  its  spring.  The 
wonderful  variety  of  the  tints  of  green  is  always 
most  apparent  when  the  leaves  first  unfold.  To  say 
that  the  fields  and  trees  were  rjreen,  gives  no  idea  of 
the  endless  shades  of  color,  from  the  yellowish,  cal- 
low tint,  which  seems  to  imprison  the  sunbeams, 
deepening  through  emerald,  up  to  the  solemn  cy- 
press hue  of  the  spruces  and  pines,  with  all  the  pos- 
sible cadences  from  first 'to  last.  The  late  rains 
have  freshened  the  fields  and  meadows  and  hillsides 
into  utmost  perfection.  The  dry,  old  sand  vanished 
away  entirely  ;  and  I  was  just  thinking  that  there 
was  no  color  so  grateful  and  lovely  as  green,  when 
a  flush  of  purple  suddenly  spread  over  the  face  of  the 
land  from  tens  of  thousands  of  wild  hyacinths,  on 
both  sides  the  railway-track,  ringing  out  perfume 
with  all  their  bells. 

"What  delicious  fragrance  must  have  filled  the  air 
around  them  !   but  we  poor  prisoners  of  steam  and 


S3  KOTES  IN  ENGLAIW. 

cinders,  could  have  no  benefit  of  liyeicinthiae  odors. 
Very  soon  the  golden  gorse  began  to  glow  over  the 
banks,  and  a  red  flower,  whose  name  I  do  not  know, 
while  daisies  faithfully  starred  the  eartli  on  every 
side,  with  our  dear  old  dandelion  and  wild  pink,  to 
remind  me  of  the  Wayside  and  America.  Presently 
we  coursed  along  by  a  canal,  the  Leeds  and  Liver- 
pool Canal,  pretty  and  picturesque  now,  because 
winding  between  trees  and  flowers,  and  once  in  a 
while  passing  beneath  a  perfect  little  stone  bridge, 
of  one  symmetrical  arch,  so  forever  beautiful,  that 
every  time  I  see  one  of  the  hundreds  that  span  the 
narrow  rivers  and  canals  of  England,  I  am  in  a  new 
delight. 

We  were  delaj'ed  in  a  very  tiresome  way  just  be- 
fore entering  Manchester,  and  feared  we  should  lose 
the  train  for  Lincoln.  The  railroad  directors  an- 
nounced that  they  would  never  promise  to  arrive 
at  appointed  times,  nor  to  be  resjDonsible  for  any 
accident  or  loss. 

We  at  last  dawdled  along  to  the  station,  and  when 
the  carriages  fairly  stopped,  we  rushed  into  a  fly 
and  dashed  off  to  the  London  depot. 

Lincoln — May  23d. — In  all  the  great  cities  of 
England,  Saturday  evening  is  a  kind  of  festival,  and 
so  it  is  here.  The  shops  are  brilliantly  lighted,  and 
the  street  is  thronged  with  the  poorer  classes,  going 
to  buy  their  next  week's  groceries  and  provisions, 
and  all  talking  together.     Each  one  has  a  basket, 


LINCOLN  CATHEDRAL.  33 

and  not  only  the  sidewalks,  but  tlie  middle  of  tlie 
street,  are  crowded  witli  human  beings.  There  is  a 
particular  Saturday  evening  market  in  Lincoln,  be- 
sides that  the  shops  keep  open  late.  Out  of  the 
line  of  my  vision,  but  within  hearing,  as  I  sat,  a 
violin  and  fife  struck  up  a  prelude,  and  then  a  fine, 
manly  voice  sang  several  songs  very  well. 

Just  now  a  band  of  music  came  up,  and  we  ran  to 
the  window,  thinking  we  might  see  a  militar}-  com- 
pany ;  but  it  was  only  the  brass-instrument-plaj-ers, 
and  they  stopped  just  opposite  us,  and  performed 
two  pieces  of  music,  one  of  them  an  andante  of 
Beethoven.  The  crowd  grew  dense  around  them 
instantly,  and  I  think  it  was  for  the  entertainment 
of  the  crowd  that  they  were  playing.  It  was  most 
refreshing  and  delicious  to  me,  always  so  starved 
for  music,  and  to  hear  a  strain  of  Beethoven  was  a 
boon  I  did  not  look  for. 

Soon  after  the  band  w^ent  away,  a  street-preacher 
or  a  madman  began  to  hold  forth,  a,nd  then  the 
musicians  returned  with  a  triumphal  march,  and 
passed  off  tov/ard  the  cathedral.  It  is  of  the  ca- 
thedral I  must  now  tell  you.  It  rained  this  morn- 
ing, and  there  was  a  dreary  east  Avind,  and  so  we 
ordered  a  fly  to  take  us  up  the  steep  hill,  to  visit 
the  interior  of  the  magnificent  fane. 

The  coachman  drove  us  up  a  winding  way  instead 
of  the  perpendicular  road.  Unlike  all  the  other 
cathedrals  we  have  visited,  every  gate  was  locked, 
so  that  we  could  not  even  go  into  the  nave  without 

2* 


34  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

an  attendant,  A  girl  came  at  last  and  unfastened  a 
door,  and  we  followed  lier  into  tlie  southern  aisle  of 
the  west  front. 

The  width  of  the  west  front  is  174  feet,  covered 
with  arched  and  pointed  doorways,  arcades,  cano- 
pies, niches,  mullioned  windows,  architrave  mould- 
ings, and  foliage.  On  each  side  of  the  tAvo  smaller 
entrance  doors,  in  niches,  are  sculptures  of  Saxon 
times.  One  represents  the  Angel  expelling  Adam 
and  Eve  from  Paradise — another,  the  spirits  of  the 
just  going  up  to  heaven,  and  the  unjust  led  by  Cer- 
berus to  the  Styx,  with  friars  and  nuns  and  mon- 
sters. Something  like  Noah's  Ark  is  in  one  ;  and  in 
another,  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den. 

We  entered  the  right-hand  smaller  door.  Alas ! 
what  can  poor  mortals  say  or  do,  when  they  enter 
one  of  these  sublime  cathedrals  ?  To  be  silent  seems 
the  only  appropriate  part,  yet  I  must  try  to  give  you 
an  idea,  as  you  are  not  here  to  see  and  be  silent 
with  me.  Twelve  clustered  columns  bear  up  the 
roof  of  stone,  six  on  each  side — no — sixteen;  eigJd 
on  each  side — for  I  should  count  the  two  which  sup- 
port the  iniddle  Eood-tower.  They  are  unfortunately 
covered  with  a  kind  of  plaster  and  _yello\v  wash,  but 
are  really  made  of  Purbeck  marble,  like  those  col  - 
umns  and  pediments  of  the  beautiful  church  of  the 
Temple  in  London.  It  is  composed  of  shells,  aud 
the  tint  is  mixed  ;  but  the  effect  is  a  purplish,  pink- 
ish, rich  brown,  capable  of  the  highest  polish.  We 
did  not  think  of  the  detail,  however,  at  first,  or  how 


LIKCOLI^  GATHEDRAL.  85 

gorgeous  it  once  was  in  color.     Those  vast  spaces 
satisfy,  with  the   gothic   forms — the   trefoil-headed 
arches  on  the  walls  of  the  side-aisles,  arches  beyond 
and  above  arches,  some  pointed  like  a  flame,  others 
rounded  for  variety — ^jiist  as  in  nature  no  two  leaves 
or  flowers  are  precisely  alike,    Gothic  sculpture  and 
architecture,  I  think,  represent  and  reproduce  Na- 
ture, and  Grecian  architecture  seems  to  be  Art,  One 
is  Love,  Passion,  and  Aspiration,  and  the  other  In- 
tellect, Thought,  and  also  Beauty — for  by  both  forms 
we  arrive  at  Beauty.     The  Gothic  is  affectional  and 
struggling,  and  the  Grecian  is  philosophic  and  re- 
poseful.    But  I  must  hasten  after  my  verger.     He 
did  not  allow  us  to  dream  in  the  nave.     He  first 
discoursed  about  the  tabernacle-work  in  the  choir. 
He  said  each  stall  was  different  from  all  the  others 
in  its  canop}'-,  and  th(ire  are  sixtj'-two !     The}-  are  of 
dark  oak,  and  every  imaginable  leaf  and  flower  are 
interv/oven  in  the  tracery.     The  seats  of  the  vicars 
are  more  superb  still,  having  kings  carved  on  them, 
and  angels,  with  dulcimers,  harps,  and  viols.     The 
bishop's  throne  is  a  very  simple  matter,  less  stately 
than  any  ecclesiastical  throne  I  have  seen.     The 
chancel  is  beautiful,  with  an  extraordinary  double- 
arched  gallery,  involved  in  a  bewildering  harmonj^, 
like  different  tones  in  music  mingled  together.     I 
wish  I  could  have  had  time  to  sketch  it,  as  it  is  con- 
sidered the  greatest  beauty  of  the  cathedral.      In 
the  spandrels  of  the  arches  are  thirty  statues,  many 
of  them  with  musical  instruments — the  harp,  rebeck. 


86  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

cithern,  tabor,  pipe,  and  trumpet ;  and  tlie  yerger 
said  they  were  called  the  choir  of  angels.  On  one 
side  of  the  altar  is  the  tomb  of  the  monk  Eemegius, 
"who  founded  the  minster.  He  was  a  Norman,  and 
a  man  remarkable  for  piety,  charity,  and  intellect. 
It  was  consecrated  "  to  the  Yirgin  of  Yirgins,"  in 
the  twelfth  centiuy,  time  of  William  Rufus,  who,  yon 
know,  succeeded  William  the  Conqueror.  A  Druid- 
ical  temple  stood  on  the  site  in  the  early  British  era, 
and  afterward  a  Koman  temple,  when  the  Komans 
occupied  the  hill  as  a  military  station.  It  was  called 
the  Eoman  Lindum.  Near  Eemegius  is  also  the 
cenotaph  of  Bloet,  who  stands  blowing  a  trumpet 
on  one  of  the  pinnacles  of  the  west  front,  and  there 
are  three  or  four  fine  figures  of  soldiers  guarding 
the  sepulchre.  The  verger  said  that  Flaxman  very 
much  liked  these  watching  figures.  Opposite  are 
the  tombs  of  Katharine,  de  Swinford,  wife  of  John 
of  Gaunt,  and  sister  of  the  poet  Chaucer,  and  at  her 
feet  is  the  sarcophagus  of  her  daughter  Joan,  Count- 
ess of  Westmoreland.  In  the  aisle,  on  the  southern 
side,  is  an  illuminated  A^dndow,  containing  the  names 
of  all  the  Chancellors  from  1092  to  1728  ;  and  be- 
neath is  a  little  chapel,  called  St.  Katharine's, 
founded  by  Bishop  Longiand,  and  containing  his 
buried  heart. 

The  cathedral  is  rich  in  little  chapels,  v*^hicli  give 
great  varietj^  to  the  exterior  of  the  edifice.  Henry 
of  Huntingdon,  the  historian,  is  interred  near 
Katharine  de  Swinford.     Before  Bisjiop  Heming's 


LINCOLN  CATHEDRAL.  ■  3? 

chapel,    opposite    tlie    pvesbyteiy,   is    a    sculptured 
figure  of  Death,  lying  in  a  shroud,  which  the  Bislioii 
put   there   to   remind   him   of   mortality,    when   he 
went   to  his   private  devotions.      It  is  said  also  to 
commemorate  his   ftist ;    for  he   tried  to   fost  forty 
days  and  nights,  and  died  in  the  eifoit.     Inside  is 
his  tomb,  and  his  figure,  sculptured  in  his  pontifical 
robes.     He  was  the  founder  of  Lincoln  College,  Ox- 
ford.    The  great  East  window  is  of  modern-painted 
dass,  with  altogether  too  much  blue  in  it,  I  think. 
It  represents  the  prophesied  advent,  and  the  life  of 
Christ.      The  Lady-chapel  is  beneath  it,  and  here 
we  saw  a  rich  stone,  elaborately-carved  shrine,  upon 
which  once  stood  "  the  Yirgin  of  Yirgins,"  holding 
the  infant  Saviour;  and  just  before  it,  a  deep  place 
is  worn  in  the  stone  pavement,  by  the  motion  of  the 
foot  in  making  obeisance  for  ages.     The  statue  is 
gone,  the  vforship  of  "  Our  Lady"  has  almost  passed 
away  from  the  land ;  but  the  deep  print  of  homage 
is  left  indelible. 

In  this  sacred  place  was  great  spoil  for  Henry  the 
Eighth.  Tens  of  thousands  of  ounces  of  gold  and 
silver  were  taken  from  this  spot,  and  diamonds  and 
other  precious  stones,  which  had  been  brought  as 
offerings  to  the  Yirgin.  And  first  Henry,  and  then 
Cromwell,  struck  off  the  heads  of  the  statues,  after 
quite  demolishing  Mary  ;  and  one  poor  knight  is 
cut  exactly  in  halves,  besides  being  decapitated. 
Bitterly  did  the  verger  speak  of  the  Lord  Protector. 
He  believed  the  soldiers  Avere  paid  for  every  statue 


38  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

they  destroyed,  until  this  was  found  too  costly  a 
bargain,  and  so  ruin  ceased  to  get  a  premium. 
Cromwell  had  a  particular  fancy  for  stabling  his 
horses  in  the  naves  of  cathedrals ;  and  here  they 
stamped  on  the  splendid  brass  tablets  which  paved 
the  vyhole  broad  floor ;  and  then  he  took  possession 
of  all  the  brasses.  So  that  the  present  pavement  is 
of  plain  stone,  and  modern.  I  cannot  forgive  Crom- 
well for  such  stupid  destruction.  But  he  thought 
he  was  obeying  the  command,  •'  Thou  shalt  have  no 
graven  images,"  and  in  this  spirit,  it  was  perhaps 
proper  to  demolish  the  Yirgin  ;  not,  hov/ever,  the 
lords,  and  knights,  and  gentlemen,  v/ho  slept  quietly 
in  stone  on  their  monuments,  and  wdiom  no  one 
dreamed  of  worshipping. 

In  Our  Lady's  Chapel  are  buried,  singularly 
enough,  the  viscera  of  Queen  Eleanor,  the  beloved 
wife  of  Edward  I.,  and  Edward  built  the  chapel. 
On  the  tomb  of  one  Bishop  Burghersh  are  carved 
very  graceful,  but  now  headless,  male  and  female 
figures,  in  alto-relievo.  The  attitudes  and  drapery 
are  studies,  aud  I  wish  I  could  have  copied  even 
one.  Its  date  is  1340.  There  were  sometimes 
shrines  of  pure  gold  for  canonized  saints,  and  St. 
Hugh's  was  one  of  these.  It  went  into  King  Henry's 
coffers,  and  only  his  stone  shrine  remains,  which  is 
that  upon  which  once  stood  the  Virgin.  In  passing 
along  the  aisles,  the  vert^er  called  our  attention  to 
the  lovely  carvings  in  unexpected  places, — carvings 
in  the  solid  stone  walls.     Sometimes  it  would  be  of 


LINCOLN  CATHEDRAL.  3S 

the  liawtliorn,  with  a  blossom  in  the  centre  of  four 
leaves  ;  sometimes  it  was  the  oak  and  acorn.     Some 
monk  of  a  sculptor,  while  walking  along  in  medi- 
tative mood,  would   seem  to  have  pulled  out  his 
chisel,  and  commenced  and  finished  cutting  an  in- 
terwoven wreath  of  plant  and  bloom,  in  such  entire 
relief,  that  the  whole  group  merely  touches  in  pin- 
points the  wall  of  which  it  was  just  now  a  solid 
portion,  without  hfe  or  grace.    And  these  are  formed 
into  arches,  and  often  a  cluster  of  perfect  forms  sud- 
denly blossoms  at  the  springing  of  an  arch,  where 
you  are  looking  for  no  such  delight ;  for  there  really 
seems  only  individual  will  in  each  of  the  productions. 
I  can  imagine  these  often  idle   and  cultivated  and 
fanciful  priests,  dreaming  with  the  chisel  wherever 
in  the  vast  spaces  they  chose  to  use  it,  just  to  fill 
the  time  and  keep  out  of  mischief.   What  lovely  and 
immortal  play ! 

In  Mary  Magdalene's  Chapel  is  the  very  ancient 
font,  so  large  that  the  infant  could  have  been  im- 
mersed in  it.  Outside  are  griffins  and  birds — and 
the  outer  basin  is  square ;  but  a  round  scoop  is 
made  inside,  and  it  stands  on  four  columns.  It  was 
in  the  original  church  of  St.  Eemegius,  and  once 
stood  in  the  south  aisle  of  the  nave. 

We  now  left  the  chancel,  and  went  into  the  clois- 
ters. They  are  in  good  preservation ;  and  whose 
tomb  do  you  think  we  saw  on  the  pavement  ?  It 
was  that  of  Elizabeth  Penrose— your  good  friend, 
Mrs.  Markham.     J was  astonished,  not  only  to 


40  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

stand  on  lier  grave,  but  to  find  that  Mrs.  Markliam'a 
real  name  was  Elizabeth  Penrose. 

The  symmetry  of  the  quadrangle  is  spoiled  by 
two  things.  One  is  an  innovation  of  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  who  built  the  cathedral  library  on  one  side, 
and  encroached  on  the  lawn.  How  he  could  have 
done  it,  or  how  he  could  have  been  allowed  to  do  it, 
I  cannot  conjecture.  So  perfect  and  grand  is  the 
general  harmony  that  a  dissonance  positively  tor- 
tures one.  But  underneath  this  library  is  one  of  the 
finest  views  of  the  exterior  of  the  whole  structure. 
Erom  that  point  it  is  not  possible  to  see  any  end  or 
beginning  to  the  enormous  fabric,  and  it  does  in- 
deed look  like  a  city,  with  its  pinnacles  and  towers, 
and  chapels  and  buttresses,  rising  on  every  side. 
The  other  blemish  is  the  ugliest  possible  little 
shanty  of  brick  and  stone  in  one  corner  of  the 
lawn.  The  verger  unlocked  it,  and  we  entered. 
There,  to  be  sure,  was  the  famous  Roman  pavement, 
supposed  to  be  the  floor  of  a  bath.  It  is  exceed- 
ingly curious  and  interesting,  but  not  beautiful.  It 
is  made  of  innumerable  little  cylinders  of  variously 
colored  clay,  laid  in  patterns ;  and  from  the  gallery 
over  which  we  leaned  to  look  at  it,  it  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  painting  upon  oil-cloth  carpets. 
There  was  a  dressing-room  as  well  as  a  bathing- 
room.  The  Romans  Avere  established  on  the  hill, 
which  commands  a  fine  view  of  the  city  and  Lin- 
colnshire.    So,  then,  without  any  manner  of  doubt, 


LINCOLN  CATHEDRAL.  41 

we  esamiued  an  old  Roman  construction  of  at  least 
two  thousand  years  ago. 

I  could  have  stood  all  day,  and  many  days,  gazing 
from  tliat  siieltered  quadrangle  upon  tlie  glorious 
cathedral.  It  is  so  delightfully  lawless  -  and  un- 
reckonable  in  its  forms.  It  is  something  like  a  sud- 
den upleaping  of  numberless  fountains,  each  reaching 
a  different  height,  full  of  flowers,  saints,  and  all 
kind  of  cunning  devices,  crystallized  in  mid-air  by 
the  wand  of  a  magician,  dripping  solid  splendor  on 
every  side.  And  I  was  only  looking  at  the  northern 
]part,  which  by  no  means  resembled  the  others. 

From  the  cloisters  w^e  went  into  the  chapter-house. 
Like  the  restored  chapter-house  of  Salisbury,  it  is 
supported  by  one  column  of  clustered  shafts,  throw- 
ing out  the  roof  like  so  many  branches  of  a  tree  ; 
but  unlike  that  gorgeous  restoration,  there  are  no 
rainbow  colors  now.  This  cathedral  was  all  jewelled 
with  color  in  its  first  era,  but  either  Henry  or  Crom- 
well daubed  everything  over  with  white  or  yellow 
wash.  Where  the  wash  is  rubbed,  it  is  easy  to  dis- 
cover faint  blue  and  red  tints  still.  Once  these 
temples  must  have  seemed  cleared  "  forests  primeval," 
gemmed  and  laced  with  flowers.  The  verger  said 
visitors  sometimes  expressed  that  they  were  glad  the 
colors  were  gone.  Those  persons  must  be  yevj  cool 
philosophers,  risen  into  the  calm  of  thought.  But 
while  love  exists  I  x^ray  to  have  ruby  red,  heaven's 
blue,  and   golden  yellow,  with   every  intermediate 


42  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

hue.  I  am  a  devoted  lover  of  pure  form,  but  these 
cathedrals  have  developed  hi  me  another  taste,  also 
legitimate ;  for  flowers  and  rainbows  are  also  parts 
of  creation,  and  it  is  designed  that  we  should  enjoy 
them  before  we  are  angels.  Yet  the  angels — does 
not  St.  John  say  that  the  vf alls  of  the  new  Jerusalem 
which  "  descended  out  of  the  heaven  of  God"  were 
garnished  with  all  manner  of  precious  stones — 
jasper,  sapphire,  chalcedony,  emerald,  sardonyx, 
sardius,  chrysolite,  beryl,  topaz,  chrysoprase,  jacinth, 
and  amethyst,  while  the  gates  were  of  pearl.  The 
angels,  then,  are  not  above  color,  though  the  gray- 
souled  visitors  to  churches  are. 

The  roof  of  the  chapter-house  is  of  stone,  and 
every  window  was  once  filled  with  illuminated  glass, 
but  that  is  gone  and  plain  is  substituted.  Lately 
this  decagonal  building  has  been  streugthened,  be- 
cause the  excessive  weight  of  the  roof  was  pushing 
out  the  sides.     It  is  all  in  good  repair. 

I  have  forgotten  to  say  that  we  saw  a  veritable 
Roman  altar,  with  an  inscription,  inside  the  cathedral, 
as  well  as  the  shrine  of  little  St.  Hugh,  a  child  said 
to  have  been  crucified  by  the  Jews  in  derision  of 
tlie  infant  Christ,  and  afterward  buried  here  as  a 
martyr.  A  stone  coffin,  with  a  child's  bones,  was 
-eally  found,  as  a  verification  of  the  legend. 

But  I  must  close  this  long  story  now,  and  eom- 
uence  again  for  another  mail.  We  shall  go  to  the 
original  old  Boston  to-morrow. 


LINCOLN  CATUEDIIAL.  43 

May  24tli. — I  have  not  yet  left  the  cathedral.  I  told 
joM  last  of  the  Chapter-house.  After  seeing  that,  the 
verger  brought  us  into  the  great  transept.  This 
always  points  north  and  south,  and  the  nave,  choir, 
chancel  (or  presbytery),  and  Lady-chapel  face  east 
and  v/est.  Above  the  centre  of  the  great  transept  rises 
the  Eood  tower  (rood  means  cross),  containing  the 
famous  Tom  of  Lincoln,  the  mighty  bell.  This 
tov^^er  is  three  hundred  feet  high,  the  highest  without 
a  spire  in  the  kingdom,  and  its  enormous  weight  is 
supported  by  four  beautiful  and  very  lofty  arches. 
They  have  a  slender  elegance,  which  seems  quite  in- 
adequate to  so  much  effective  effort.  Yet  there  rises 
and  rests  the  noble  tower  safe  and  serene. 

Beneath  the  arch  that  opens  upon  the  choir,  (ex- 
actly opposite  the  west-entrance  door,)  is  the  organ, 
over  the  usual  stone  screen.  This  screen  is  un- 
speakably rich  in  sculpture,  in  high  and  low  relief. 
I  am  sure  these  carvings  must  have  been  acts  of  de- 
votion, but  yet  this  workmanship  is  supposed  to  be 
that  of  professed  artists,  hired  for  the  purpose. 
High  up  in  the  curve  of  the  southern  end  of  the 
transept  is  a  rose-window.  It  is  exceedingly  large, 
and  instead  of  having  sashes  in  a  regular  form,  such 
as  star-shaped,  or  tangents,  or  right-angles,  or  any 
other  angles,  some  lover  of  what  Euskin  calls  "  the 
immortal  curve"  designed  the  sashes  in  an  ara- 
besque or  acanthus  pattern,  which  I  would  have 
given  the  verger  or  my  left  hand  to  have  had  a 


44  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

cliance  to  sketch.  Upon  all  the  glass  inserted  in 
this  wilderness  of  enchanting,  waving,  curling  lines, 
contained  within  a  perfect  circle,  are  colors  as  fresh 
and  gorge'ous  as  if  just  born  of  prisms ;  and  at  first 
glance  I  thought  they  were  flowers — of  paradise, 
certainly — but  flowers.  Then  they  seemed  to  be 
saints — and  saints  may  be  called  the  flowers  of  holi- 
ness, perhaps  ;  but  the  window  was  too  high  for  me 
to  decide,  and  the  verger  did  not  know.  Each  tint 
was  a  gem  of  purest  ray,  ruby,  emerald,  and  all  the 
royal  fraternity.  "When  dazzled  with  the  splendor, 
one  can  follow  the  "  immortal  curves"  of  the  sashes, 
and  when  weary  of  imagining  whither,  in  infinity, 
the  curves  lead,  there  remains  the  circle  enclosing 
all,  the  satisfying  emblem  of  Eternity. 

There  is  a  tradition  about  this  wonderful,  celestial 
bouquet  of  either  flowers  or  saints.  It  is  that  the 
master-artist  undertook  to  produce  the  northern 
rose-vvindow,  while  the  apprentice  was  appointed  to 
execute  the  southern  one.  Curtains  hung  before 
each,  till  both  were  finished.  And  when  the  south- 
ern rose  was  unveiled  to  the  eyes  of  the  master,  in 
despair  at  its  eminent  superiority  to  his  own,  he 
threw  himself  upon  the  pavement  beneath  and  died. 
A  stain  of  blood  is  shown  upon  the  stones.  This  is 
the  same  kind  of  story  as  that  of  the  peerless  column 
in  Koslyn  Chapel.  But  the  master's  window  is  also 
beautiful.  It  represents  the  Church  on  earth  and 
tlie  Church  in  heaven,  and  is  said  to  be  the  most 
perfect  work  of  the  thirteenth  century. 


LINCOLN  CATHEBIIAL.  45 

Almost  till  the  old  stained-glass  of  tlio  catliedral 
was  ignorantly  destroyed  at  the  Eeformation,  and 
during  the  ci\dl  wars,  probably  because  of  the 
saints  xDictured  on  them.  But  the  verger  said  that 
it  was  now  a  decree  of  the  Chapter,  that  no  tribu- 
tary monument  should  be  henceforth  erected  to  the 
dead,  excepting  emblematic,  painted-glass  windows. 
Is  not  this  good  ?  Four  new  ones  are  already  put 
in,  and  slowly,  I  suppose,  all  will  be  accomplished. 
These  four  are  in  the  southern  aisle  of  the  nave. 

While  Ave  were  in  the  Lady-chapel,  Great  Tom 
tolled  twelve  o'clock,  with  a  grand,  majestic,  thun- 
derous sound,  "solemn  and  slow  too,  and  most  tune- 
ful as  well.  It  is  in  the'  key  A,  and  is  a  fit  voice  for 
the  magnificent  minster,  and  seems  to  thrill  through 
every  atom  of  its  frame.  Old  Tom  was  considered 
finer  in  tone  and  more  powerful  even  than  this,  and 
was  dearly  loved  by  Lincoln.  But  one  morning  the 
city  was  startled  by  a  strange  dissonance  in  its  be- 
loved bell.  Upon  examination,  it  was  found  to  have 
a  fissure  on  its  rim.  No  patching  would  serve,  so  it 
was  broken  up,  and  six  lady-bells  were  added  to  it, 
and  new  Tom  was  made  of  all,  melted  together. 

The  south  end  of  the  great  transept  has  two 
aisles,  and  opening  from  the  western  aisle,  which 
would  be  parallel  to  the  west  facade,  is  what  is 
called  a  Galilee,  a  superb  porch  of  very  large  size. 
It  is  not  used  now  for  its  original  purpose ;  but  it 
was  the  place  where  penitents  on  trial  stood,  before 
being  allowed  to  commune  again  with  the  church- 


46  WOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

members — a  kind  of  sinners'  ante-room,  rdiicli  it 
was  humiliating  to  pass  tlirongii.  Women  were 
allowed  there  oni}'  to  see  the  monks  who  were  their 
relatives  ;  and  in  some  cathedrals  females  were  not 
permitted  to  attend  divine  service  except  in  the  Gal- 
ilee. This  has  been  repaired  lately,  and  is  as  rich 
as  possible  in  pinnacles,  arches,  and  flowers,  outside. 
At  the  north  end  of  the  central  transept,  beneath 
the  master's  rose-window,  is  an  arched  door,  which 
is  the  private  entrance  of  the  Dean.  Two  narrow, 
tall  lights  are  over  it,  filled  with  old,  stained  glass. 
The  Lord  Bishop's  entrance  is  through  the  southeast 
porch,  on  one  side  of  the  chancel.  ■  It  is  gorgeous 
in  decoration.  Over  the  door,  Christ  sits  as  judge, 
with  his  angels.  Lovely  garlands  of  flowers  and 
leaves,  and  little  statues,  some  still  intact,  others 
headless,  cover  the  vaulted  roof.  The  Virgin  and 
Infant  once  stood  on  the  middle  pier,  but  that  group 
is  of  course  destroyed,  and  four  bishops  stand  be- 
headed, without  trial,  at  the  entrance. 

You  perceive  we  have  said  farewell  to  the  verger, 
and  are  looking  at  the  exterior  again  now.  The 
whole  eastern  side  is  of  exquisite  beauty,  with  its 
gables  and  double  buttresses,  filled  with  slender  pil- 
lars and  pointed  arches  and  brackets,  upon  which 
statues  stand  and  stood,  with  finely-wrought  cano- 
pies overhead — the  stone  changed  into  airy  lace. 
On  the  tips  of  the  buttresses  are  pinnacles,  octagons 
with  spires,  so  you  can  imagine  how  it  must  flame. 
The  stone  is  heavy  nowhere.     It  is  made  light  as 


LINCOLN  CATEEDBAL.  47 

lire  and  air  with  cunning  handiwork.  I  am  afraid  I 
have  said  "  light  as  fire"  once  before,  in  describing 
York  Minster,  but  I  can  think  of  no  other  simile 
that  suits  either  case  so  well. 

When  we  left  this  wonder  of  art,  we  walked  about 
the  high  plain  upon  which  it  is  erected,  to  see  the 
castle  and  Boman  arch  and  wall.  The  gateway  of 
the  castle,  the  keep,  and  part  of  the  walls,  are  all 
that  remain.  The  Conqueror  built  it.  It  was  one 
of  the  four  great  castles  he  built  when  he  first  took 
possession.  It  must  have  been  grand.  The  lower 
part  of  the  huge  keep  stands  croM-ned  with  ivy,  with 
beautiful  shrubbery  and  trees  springing  up  round 
the  base,  and  up  the  steep  mound  upon  which  it 
rests. 

The  castle  entrance  has  a  ruined  look,  for  it  was 
too  well  battered  in  Cromwell's  wars,  by  the  Earl  of 
Manchester.  John  of  Gaunt,  "  time-honored  Lan- 
caster," made  it  his  winter  residence  ;  and  the  walls 
enclose  nearly  seven  acres. 

When  William  the  Conqueror  commenced  this 
fortress,  he  also  began  the  cathedral,  and  the  cathe- 
dral alone  seems  to  have  been  enclosed  in  walls  ;  for 
several  massive  stone  gates  still  stand,  and  one  of 
them  is  exactly  opposite  the  west  front. 

The  Roman  arch  of  which  I  just  now  spoke  is 
considered  the  best  relic  of  Roman  work  in  England. 
It  has  already  survived  two  thousand  years  or  more, 
and  looks  as  if  it  might  last  indefi.uitely.  It  is 
peculiar  in  having  no  key-stone. 


48  ■  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

There  was  once  a  great  parallelogram  of  wall,  of 
wliicli  this  was  one  of  the  gates,  but  all  the  other 
gates  are  demolished,  and  the  only  bit  of  original 
wall  left  standing  is  in  the  middle  of  a  garden,  care- 
fully palisaded  round  for  safekeeping.  This  rem- 
nant is  in  a  line  with  the  foregoing  arcliway  that  I 
have  slightly  sketched.  Violence,  and  not  time,  has 
destroyed  these  stern  and  earnest  fabrics.  Eoman 
streets,  hard  now  as  iron,  have  been  discovered  by 
digging  down  into  the  soil  about  Lincoln.  I  really 
believe  that  it  is  what  there  is  Koman,  stereotyped 
into  the  English,  which  makes  them  also  build  so 
strongly.  We  walked  all  round  the  castle,  after 
faithfull}'  examining  the  famous  archway,  and  then 

J was  hungry,  and  went  into  the  funniest  little 

old  shop  that  ever  w^as  seen,  kept  by  an  ancient  man, 
and  bought  some  gingerbread,  an  acre  of  it,  I  should 
think,  "  and  munched  and  munched,"  as  Macbeth's 
witches  say.  I  have  no  doubt  that  old  shop  was 
built  of  the  wa'ecks  of  the  Roman  walls,  and  I  am 
not  sure  that  the  old  man  was  not  himself  an  eternal 
old  Roman. 

The  town  of  Lincoln  lies  in  a  great  plain  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill ;  but  it  vvas  so  misty  that  day  that 
we  could  not  see  it  well,  and  the  wdnd  was  bitterly 
cold,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to  come  home. 

We  descended  Steep-street  into  Guildhall,  and 
came  through  Stone  Bow,  another  solid  arch  at  the 
head  of  High-street,  and  close  by  our  hotel,  the 
Saracen's  Head.     This  was,  probably,  a  Avork  of  the 


LINCOLN  CATHEDRAL.  49 

Conqueror,  and  it  may  be  Koman,  for  tlie  Romans 
extended  their  city  down  into  the  plain. 

This  morning  there  was  a  ponring  rain,  bnt  it 
cleared  at  noon,  and  at  live  we  took  our  drive  of  two 
hours.  We  first  mounted  the  storied  hill,  and  slowly 
went  round  the  cathedral,  and  round  Colonel  Sib- 
thorpe's  Bede-houses  —  charitable  institutions  for 
women — and  a.long  a  road,  from  which  we  had  a  fine 
view  of  the  city,  and  the  country,  to  a  far  distance. 
Then  we  returned,  and  drove  to  the  cemetery,  and 
over  the  common,  from  which  the  hill  made  a  stately 
picture,  crowned  with  cathedral  and  castle.  We  also 
passed  by  John  of  Gaunt's  stables,  a  very  interesting 
ruin,  with  fine  carved  work. 

Near  this  is  the  site  of  his  summer  palace.  Then 
we  drove  to  the  race-course.  The  wind  was  west, 
and  the  green  enchanting,  and  we  enjoyed  ourselves 
very  much.  Coming  home,  we  passed  a  choice  gem 
called  now  St.  Mary's  Conduit.  It  was  once  a 
shrine,  and  it  is  covered  with  delicate  sculpture  and 
canopies.  It  was  so  wonderfully  beautiful  that  I 
wish  I  could  have  carefully  drawn  it.  It  was  erected 
in  the  time  of  Edward  I.  by  Ranulphus  de  Kyme. 
I  will  just  give  you  an  idea  of  its  form,  and  end  off 
Lincoln. 

3 


III. 

OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPH'S. 

Boston,  Lincolnshire,  May  2Gth,  1857. 
Does  not  it  look  delightfully  to  see  the  name  ol 
that  beloved  city  for  my  date  ?  But  this  original 
old  town  is  not  in  the  least  like  our  "  Athens."  It 
is  perfectly  flat,  and  boasts  of  but  one  single  thing, 
but  this  is  very  handsome.  It  is  the  ancient  church 
of  St.  Botolph.  Botolph's  town  was  the  name  now 
contracted  into  Boston.  By  pronouncing  it  very 
quickly,  you  can  see  how  it  might  be,  especially  if 
you  will  recall  the  style  in  which  the  English  guards 
announce  names  to  us  railroad  travellers.  Their 
idea  seems  to  be  to  utter  the  word  at  high-pressure 
speed,  in  imitation  of  steam-rate  of  progress.  But 
I  must  not  arrive  in  Boston  as  if  I  were  a  pigeon.  I 
must  tell  you  how  we  came.  One  of  the  waiters  at 
the  Saracen's  Head  told  us  on  Monday  morning  that 
there  was  a  steamboat  which  went  to  Boston  from 
Lincoln  at  ten  o'clock,  along  the  river  Witliam,  and 
that  it  was  a  nice  boat,  and  the  scenery  was  very 
beautiful  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  It  was  a  fine 
morning,  and  we  thought  it  would  be  a  great  relief 
from  rail  carriages  to  glide  down  a  lovely  river  in 
the  sunshine,  even  though  it  should  take  five  hours, 
instead  of  one  hour  by  rail.  Before  ten,  we  drove 
to  the  river-banks,  and  there  were  multitudes  of 
boats    moored,    each    one,    as    we    passed,    looking 


GLB  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPH'S.  51 

too  bad  to  enter.  But  at  last  tlie  carriage  stopped 
at  a  rather  miseraiole  craft,  thougli  witli  a  l)ctter 
quarter-deck  than  the  others  possessed.  It  was  a 
small  steamer,  and  not  nearly  so  large  nor  so  good 
as  the  Mersey  boats,  in  which  we  crossed  to  Liver- 
pool from  Eock  Eerry.  The  sunshine,  however,  and 
the  prospect  of  the  enchanting  scenes  through  which 
we  were  to  pass,  kept  up  our  spirits  and  hopes.  The 
waiter  who  tempted  us  to  this  excursion  looked  hke 

Mr.  J^ ^  and  so  I  gave  him  credit  for  taste  and 

appreciation,  and  confided  in  him  blindly  and  madly. 
"We  were  about  a  year  (spiritually)  in  getting  off. 
There  was  but  one  other  passenger  besides  ourselves 
on  the  first-class  deck.  It  was  a  woman,  but  not  a 
lady— a  round,  sohd  old  body,  of  the  middle  order. 
Papa  explored  for  a  cabin  in  case  it  should  rain,  and 
reported  that  there  was  one,  but  he  could  not  paint 
it  in  glowing  colors,  though  he  wished  to  be  eu- 
couraging.  Finally  we  commenced  our  voyage  ;  but 
were  immediately  brought  np  by  a  lock,  and  locks 
kept  recurring  all  along,  the  river  being  turned  into 
a  canal,  for  the  sake  of  toll,  I  presume,  or  to  try  the 
patience  of  passengers.  Each  lock  it  took  centuries 
to  unlock,  and  the  slowness  of  the  descent  of  the 
water  can  be  compared  only  to  the  motion  of  the 
fixed  stars,  at  which  we  gaze,  and  perceive  no  mo- 
tion. Meanwhile,  no  "plains  of  Shinar,"  no  "gar- 
dens of  the  Lord,"  no  Arcadys,  nor  lordly  parks, 
nor  cloud-capped  Mount  Idas  with  sad,  wandering 
(Enones  and  gay  deceiving  Parises,  met  our  waiting 


53  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

eyes.  The  fens,  the  feus  of  Lincohishire, — the  flats, 
the  flats,  the  fiats,  spread  drearily,  east,  \\est,  north, 
and  south.  The  wind  also  blew  a  strong  gale  ahead, 
and  finall}^,  very  soon  after  starting  indeed,  it  began 
to  rain.  I  immediate!}^  was  obliged  to  go  down  into 
the  Plutonic  regions.  I  fonnd  there  a  woman,  whose 
honse  seemed  the  boat,  sewing  busily,  in  the  nar- 
rowest of  cabins.  If  we  had  taken  the  rail,  we 
should  have  arrived  in  Boston  by  that  time,  so  I 
had  plenty  of  food  for  long-suffering  and  patience. 
I  had  a  chance  to  be  good  nnder  difficulties.  I 
talked  to  the  woman,  and  asked  her  for  a  book,  but 
she  had  none.  I  sat  still  awhile,  and  then  tried  to 
see  our  way  from  a  wee  window  in  the  stern,  netted 
over  with  iron.  Still  one  dreary  flat,  on  both  sides, 
and  before,  stretched  wdthout  end. 

I  ought  to  tell  you  that  though  around  and  before 
us  was  nothing  but  fens,  yet  behind  us,  for  four 
hours,  rose  up  Lincoln  Cathedral,  taking  every  form 
as  we  wound  along,  sometimes  looking  like  a  mighty 
castle,  narrow  and  lofty.  When  an  hour  distant,  it 
was  exceedingly  grand  and  beautiful  as  a  cathedral, 
much  the  finest  view  we  had  had  of  it.  Yery  well 
did  the  Caesars  of  Kome  know  where  to  take  a  stand, 
and  the  Conqueror  wiselj^  followed  their  steps. 

We  passed  the  towns  of  Washingborough  and 
Bardney.  And  we  had  one  advantage  by  being  in 
a  quiet  boat  instead  of  in  a  noisy  carriage,  for  we 
could  hear  the  skylarks !  These  delicious  little  rap- 
tures condescended  to  rise  from  the  fens,  as  well  as 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPWS.  53 

from  Ln'elier  fields  and  meadows,  and  thej  were  in- 
deed a  solace. 

We  were  excessively  delayed  by  taking  up  passen- 
gers from  the  banks,  for  it  was  no  small  trouble  to 
stop  the  steamer,  and  get  near  enough  to  the  land. 
Once  the  captain  was  very  wroth,  because  a  young 
clown  was  waiting  on  the  margin,  with  a  huge  pile 
of  broom  to  be  taken  in.  I  could  not  well  under- 
stand wh}^  he  gave  himself  the  trouble,  when  it 
seemed  so  against  his  will.  It  was  much  against 
mine,  for  we  were  delayed  half  an  hour  by  it ;  and 
our  feelings  were  constantly  aggravated  by  perceiv- 
ing that  the  railroad,  for  the  whole  distance,  ran 
close  alongside  the  river,  so  that  we  could  have  seen 
the  country  as  well  in  the  carriages  as  on  the  water, 
and  in  one-seventh  of  the  time,  which  would  have 
been  long  enough,  since  there  was  nothing  to  see. 
The  little  birds  alighted  on  the  telegraph  wires, 
which  stretched  all  the  way,  and  I  wondered  what 
effect  their  tiny  feet  might  have  on  the  messages 
that  were  shooting  by.  At  last  I  saw  a  pretty  tower 
of  a  church,  and  a  very  tall  structure  by  it,  and  I 
asked  the  captain  what  town  it  was.  It  was  Tat- 
tershall  church,  castle,  and  town.  The  castle  was 
built  by  Sir  Richard  Cromwell.  Tattershall  Castle 
and  a  pretty  bridge  with  three  arches,  called  also 
Tattershall  Bridge,  were  the  only  picturesque  ob- 
jects we  saw.  The  castle  was  buried  in  trees,  so 
that  we  could  not  see  the  base  of  it. 

Whenever  we  went  under  a  bridge,  the   captain 


54  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

lowered  liis  funnel, — not  in  the  way  of  bowing  civillj" 
to  the  bridge,  but  jerking  it  backward,  in  an  in- 
tractable, defying  manner. 

After  six  hours  and  a  half,  we  beheld  a  Avonderful 
tower  in  the  distance,  and  simultaneously  the  cap- 
tain came  to  take  the  fare.  We  were  much  diverted 
that  he  asked  only  four  shillings  for  us  three.  The 
loft}'-  tower  proved  to  be  that  of  St.  Botolph's  Church 
in  Boston.  Afar,  it  looks  strangely  out  of  propor- 
tion to  the  building,  but  the  nearer  we  approached, 
the  better  it  justified  itself. 

When  we  arrived  in  port,  the  captain  sent  for  a 
fly,  and  a  very  nice  one  took  us  to  the  best  hotel  in 
town,  called  the  Peacock,  Market  Square.  The 
most  solemn  of  air  England's  solemn  butlers,  or 
head-waiters,  received  us  at  the  door.  Papa  called 
him  a  Puritan  ;  and  perhaps  he  is  ;  but  such  an  iroDj 
utterl}^  unmalieable  grimness  of  soberness  I  never 
beheld  on  any  face.  All  footmen  and  waiters  are 
bound  to  solemnity ;  but  generally  one  can  discern 
the  possibility  of  a  smile,  or  even  of  a  good  laugh 
in  the  servants'  hall  or  behind  a  napkin.  But  some 
terrific  discipline  has  banished  all  tendency  or  de- 
sire for  mirth  from  this  man's  soul.  His  mouth  is 
drawn  down  with  an  everlasting  resolution  that  he 
will  not  be  glad,  and  it  also  declares  that  he  cannot 
be  jolly.  I  marvel  at  his  inward  history — what  it 
can  be.  But  perhaps  he  only  sincerely  believes 
that  all  men  are  condemned  to  eternal  misery,  ex- 
cept a  few  of  the  elect ;  and  if  a  person  can  really 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPWS.  55 

tliink  tliis,  I  do  not  wonder  that  lie  will  never  smilo 
again.     I  am  afraid  lie  is  very  sorry  for  something. 

He  ushered  us  into  a  little  xDaiior,  like  a  closet, 
and  I  cried  out  against  it  emphatically,  and  told  him 
we  must  have  a  larger  room.  He  looked  a  look 
of  ice  and  stone  at  me,  and  replied  that  there 
was  no  other  disengaged.  Not  a  ray  of  sympathy 
or  concern  lighted  a  line  of  his  face.  Finding  me 
unmanageable,  he  said  he  would  call  the  landlady. 

Enter  a  jolly  dame,  all  smiles,  courtesies,  and' 
shining  black  eyes.  She  expressed  regret,  and 
thought  we  could  have  more  spacious  apartments 
after  dinner.  I  found,  however,  I  could  see'  St. 
Botolph's  Church  from  the  window,  and  so  we  ac- 
cepted our  destiny  with  patience.  After  tea,  we 
walked  out  all  around  it,  and  found  it  exceedingly 
beautiful,  and  were  surprised  by  a  kind  of  cathedral 
stateliness  it  has,  yet  it  is  not  quite  hoJf  as  long  as 
Lincoln  or  York  Minsters.  Lincoln  is  five  hundred 
and  twenty-four  feet  in  length.  The  tower  is  three 
hundred  feet  high,  and  those  slender  pinnacles  on 
the  summit  of  the  lantern  are  each  as  large  as  the 
parlor  in  which  I  sit.  They  are  repairing  a  chapel, 
in  which  is  to  be  placed  the  memorial  to  Mr.  John 
Cotton,  former  Yicar  of  St.  Botolph,  who  went  to 
Boston,  Massachusetts,  because  he  dissented  from 
his  church,  and  died  there,  much  beloved.  Gentle- 
men of  American  Boston  have  contributed,  with 
English  gentlemen,  four  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
toward  the  memorial,  which  is  to  be  an  illuminated 


56  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

window.  The  exterior  is  in  excellent  preservation . 
and  they  are  facing  the  buttresses  anew  with  beau- 
tiful canopies  and  brackets,  and  perhajDS  the  statues 
will  stand  in  them  again  by  and  by. 

Papa  happened  accidentally  into  a  funny  little 
bookstore,  and  found  an  antiquarian,  an  elderly 
man,  to  whom  he  gave  his  card,  and  who  cordially 

invited  him  to  fetch  Mrs. the  next  day,  to  see 

.some  rare  treasures  he  possessed ;  and  he  could 
show  all  that  was  interesting  in  Boston.     I  should 

not  be  surprised  if  this  Mr.  P were  one  of  the 

persons  to  whom  Mr,  B addressed  one  of  his 

letters ;  and  if  he  be,  it  is  as  good  as  a  play  that 
papa  should  alight  upon  him  in  one  of  his  wild-bird 
passages.  So  yesterday  morning  we  all  went  to  see 
him.  He  is  a  perfect  Englishman  in  appearance, 
comely,  handsomely  stout,  tall  enough,  and  with 
very  deep  wine-stains  on  each  cheek,  genial  and 
cordial,  and  particularly  glad  to  see  us.  His  shop 
is  about  as  big  as  one  division  of  a  walnut.  We  had 
scarcely  time  to  look  about  us,  before  he  requested 
us  all  to  go  up-stairs  into  another  division  of  his 
nutshell.  This  was  covered,  all  over  the  walls,  tables, 
cabinets,  and  buffets,  with  every  imaginable  knick- 
knack  and  pictures.  From  this  we  entered  a  smaller 
nook,  also  filled  with  wonders.  Here  we  sat  down, 
careful  not  to  push   anything  over  in  the   minute 

space,  and  Mr.  P went  away  to  get  somethiug. 

And  what  do  you  fancy  he  brought  to  shov/  us  in 
that  humble  little  house  in  old  Boston  ?  Why,  noth- 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPIFS.  57 

iiig  less  than  a  most  royal  treasure — a  quilt,  em- 
broidered all  over  in  wliite  silk,  with  birds  and  ara- 
besque patterns  upon  linen  so  fine  as  to  be  silky, 
and  trimmed  round  with  two  rows  of  a  very  rare 
and  curious  knotted  fringe.  It  seemed  the  vvork  o{ 
a  -  lifetime,  and  it  was  wrought  by  Mary  Stuart, 
Queen  of  Scots,  while  she  was  imprisoned  in  Foth- 
eringay  Castle.  The  arabesque  was  v\^orked  in  a 
kind  of  back-stitch,  as  fine  as  Aunt  Louisa's  fairiest 
efforts.  The  birds  and  flowers  were  done  in  chain- 
stitch.  Once  in  a  while,  the  Queen  embroidered  her 
cipher,  not  M.  R,,  but  M.  S.  This  was  also  in  chain- 
stitch.  The  knotted  fringe  was  the  work  of  her 
maidens,  and  it  must  have  been  the  labor  of  years, 
as  each  small  knot  is  fashioned  with  the  fingers. 
The  quilt  was  lined  with  pink,  and  quite  heavy  with 
the  sewing-silk.  I  imagined  the  sad  a.nd  weary 
thoughts  she  must  have  had  as  she  sat  over  it.  It 
is  stained,  and  I  wondered  whether  it  were  not  with 
tears.  I  took  off  my  glove,  and  touched  it,  for  her 
beautiful  hands  had  very  long  rested  on  it — most 
ill-fated  of  queens  ! 

The  next  treasure  Mr.  P brought  was  a  waist- 
coat of  Lord  Burleigh.     "  There,"  said  he  to  J , 

"there,  young  gentleman,  jo\x.  have  to  put  on  this 
vest,"  and  so  on  it  Avent.  It  was  of  pale  green  silk, 
trimmed  round  the  pockets  and  edges  with  a  deli- 
cate gold  and  silver  pattern,  not  half  an  inch  broad, 
but  as  brilliant  and  untarnished  as  if  finished  yester- 
day ,  yet,  it  is  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  years 

3* 


58  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

old.     J had  on  liis  talma ;  but  Lord  Burleigh 

must  have  been  slender,  for  J •  could  not  button 

it  round  his  waist.  Perhaps  some  of  this  illustrious 
counsellor's  wisdom,  in  the  form  of  Od,  entered  into 
J while  wrapped  in  it. 

Then  came  a  w^ouderful  bag,  made  of  the  Victoria 
Kegia,  bj  the  Queen  of  Otaheite,  and  given  to 
Captain  Cook !  It  was  sewed  with  smallest  feathers, 
and  the  texture  of  the  material  was  exquisite,  like 
goldbeater's  skin,  and  semi-transparent.  It  was 
once  adorned  at  the  opening  edges  with  feather- 
fringe,  but  most  of  that  was  worn  off. 

Mr.  P showed  us  also  some  shoes  of  past  ages, 

of  a  queer  shape  with  a  singular  heel.  One  was  of 
white  satin,  with  a  flower  embroidered  upon  it,  and 
the  other  was  black  satin.  He  contrasted  with  them 
some  slippers  made  bj  American  Indians. 

Some  crystal  goblets  were  beautiful,  with  St. 
Botolph's  Church  engraved  on  them,  as  well  as"other 
fine  buildings,  and  cj^jDhers  also.  He  brought  forth, 
too,  an  old  rose  noble  (a  gold  coin)  and  a  double 
sovereign  and  double  guinea,  both  out  of  circula- 
tion, and  an  angel,  now  obsolete.  Each  dwelt  in 
a  wee  chamois  bag  of  its  own,  and  was  as  bright 
as  if  just  from  the  mint.  After  seeing  these  things, 
Mr.  P allowed  us  to  go  into  the  other  apart- 
ment. Very  valuable  old  prints  were  framed  on  the 
walls,  and  a  colored  crayon  head  of  Sterne,  an  in- 
valuable picture,  drawn  from  life,  which  has  never 
been  engraved.     I  dare  say  the  British  Museum,  oi 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPWS.  59 

National  Gallery,  would  give  tliousancls  of  pounds 
for  it.  Also  tliere  was  Sterne's  wife — drawn  in  the 
same  style — a  proud,  unamiable,  liigli  liead-tossing 
lady,  from  wliom,  I  do  not  wonder,  Sterne  wislied  to 
separate.  A  copy  in  water-colors  of  Murillo's 
flower-girl  was  of  exquisite  beauty ;  and  at  last  the 
good  gentleman,  all  crisp  and  sparkling  with  ecstasy, 
at  our  enjoyment  of  his  pets,  opened  the  drawer  of  a 
cabinet,  and  took  out — what?  Fancy!  No,  you 
never  can  ;  for,  actuallj^  the  enviable  old  antiquary 
exhibited  original  pen  and  pencil  studies  of  Eaphael, 
Eembrandt,  Giordano,  Benvenuto  Cellini,  Jordaens, 
Maratti,  and  many  others.  Yes,  the  very  studies, 
with  the  growing  idea  traceable  through  the  involved 
lines.  As  at  Oxford,  all  those  of  Eaphael  Avere  un- 
mistakable, from  the  delicate  grace  and  fastidious- 
ness of  the  efforts,  so  very  fine,  and  drawn  with  a 
sharply-pointed  pencil,  while  many  of  the  others  were 
dashed  off  with  pen  and  ink.  One  was  a  head,  in 
brovm  ink,  by  Eembrandt,  a  hat  over  one  eye,  and  a 
saucy    expression,  in    shaGovv^     Where    could    Mr. 

p have  gained  such  inestimable  jewels  ?     When 

he  is  tired  of  hoarding  them,  he  can  make  a  fortune 
any  day  by  selling  them,  I  should  suppose.  And  he 
Yentureg  to  keep  them  in  a  wooden  cabinet,  in  that 
small  old  house,  which  might  burn  down  any  day ! 
He  ought  to  have  an  iron  safe  for  the  purpose,  after 
the  manner  of  Oxford,  Avhere  all  the  pen  and  peiicil 
sketches  of  the  great  masters  are  in  a  fire-proof 
apartment.       Over   the    drawings   I   exhausted   my 


60  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

capacity  for  wonder  anci  deliglit,  and  after  this  rich 
feast,  we  were  taken  down  into  a  tiny  sitting-room, 

and  introduced  to  Mr.  P 's  wife,  a  tliin,  pleasant 

person,  whom,  I  trust,  Mr.  P considers  his  most 

precious  treasure.  A  cabinet  was  opened  in  this 
room,  and  illuminated  missals  given  ns  to  see,  and 
Roman  medals,  antique  Latin  bibles,  printed  in 
Antwerp — a  secret  book,  or  "  Book  of  Secrets"  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  which  I  opened  and  read,  among 
other  receipts,  "  How  to  kill  a  fellow  quickly."  This 
struck  me  as  very  strange,  and  not  very  creditable 
to  the  Queen.  But,  beliold  !  upon  looking  more 
carefuU}^  at  the  stained  old  type,  I  found  that  it  was 
"  fellon,"  not  "  fellow."  The  present  way  of  spelling 
this  word  is  with  one  1 — felon- — and  so  I  easily  mis- 
took it.  "We  laughed  heartily  at  the  mistake,  it  was 
such  an  off-hand,  unfeeling  way  of  putting  such  a 
serious  matter — the  word  "fellov/"  giving  such  a 
scornful,  indifferent  tone.  So  there  were  all  her 
majesty's  favorite  receipts  and  notions,  very  curious 

and  entertaining.      J was    captivated   by   the 

gior}'  of  color  in  one  of  the  missals — birds,  flowers, 
and    saints    dazzled  our    eyes  with   splendor.     We 

made  Mr.  P breathless  by  telling  him  of   that 

missal  we  saw  last  summer  at  the  Countess  of  Walde- 
grave's,  illuminated  by  Raphael's  own  hand.  The 
Countess  was  very  uneasy  while  I  looked  at  it,  for  it 
was  really  too  invaluable  to  be  left  out  of  her  own 
keeping.  It  was  about  three  inches  square,  bound 
in  velvet  and  solid  gold.     Her  great  blue  eyes  blazed 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPIFS.  CI 

like  a  falcon's  npon  me,  till  I  returned  it  to  lier.  I 
am  afraid  the  antiquary  broke  the  Tenth  Command- 
ment as  he  listened  to  us  about  it.     I  asked  Mrs. 

P whether  she  were  as  much  interested  as  her 

husband  in  these  things,  and  she  said  she  was  not, 
but  preferred  to  lead.  And  then  she  remarked, 
pointing  to  a  brilh?5nt  red-bird  in  a  missal  that  I  was 
turning  over :  "  Thot  bird  is  almost  as  red  as  the 
Scarlet  Letter!"  Gbe  said  this  in  a  private,  con- 
fidential little  way,  rind  made  no  other  allusion  to 
the  authorship.  Finullj,  we  proposed  to  come  away, 
not  having  seen  the  liurdredth  part,  though  all  the 
choicest  morceaux ;  ami  the  kind  gentleman  put  on 
his  Lat,  and  went  to  sliov  us  a  curious,  old  gabled 
house  in  a  narrow  alley,  huilt  in  the  French  style. 
In  the  peak  of  the  gable  vas  a  heraldic  fleur-de-lis 
and  the  cypher  E.  E.  The  gable  was  trimmed  with 
costly,  stone  Maltese  lace,  and'^.arved  and  ornamented 

in  various  ways,  and   Mr.  F evinced  a  pious 

borror  at  the  insertion  of  a  mod'^rn  window-frame  in 
another  part  of  the  house.  Ho  chewed  us  also  the 
site  of  Mr.  John  Cotton's  house,  and  mourned  over 
its  demolition.  He  wished  the  spot  to  be  enclosed, 
.and  a  memorial  built  up  in  the  centro,  and  said  that 
Dr.  Bigelow,  of  Boston,  Massachusavts,  told  him, 
when  here,  that  he  believed  the  inhabitants  of  bis 
own  city  would  gladly  contribute  to  ito  erection,  if 
the  land  could  be  purchased  and  secured^  Finallj, 
we  came  to  St.  Botolph's,  and  the  present  Yicar,  re- 
mote successor  to  Mr.  Cotton,  was  standmrr  ^tj^  the 


63  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

Close,  talking  witli  some  one,  and  Mr.  P brought 

him  to  us  and  introduced  him,  after  having  whispered 
who  papa  was.  This  yicar  was  not  yenerable,  like 
the  vicar  of  Wakefield,  but  a  young  man,  of  the  most 
comfortable  aspect  yon  can  conceive — soft,  round, 
with  a  rather  pale  and  comely,  but  full  face,  snowj^, 
large,  handsome  teeth — spotless  white  cravat,  fine 
black  coat,  and  hands  that  looked  like  bishops — so 
plump,  smooth,  and  fair.  Beally,  the  chief  shep- 
herds of  this  English  fold  are  as  v^^ell  to  do  as  the 
fleecy  sheep  and  lambs  I  see  grazing  by  hundreds  in 
the  meadows.  They  testify  to  sumptuous  fare,  and 
wear  fine  linen  ever}^  day.  With  a  refined  and  culti- 
vated expression,  they  yet  remind  one  of  the  jolly 
world  and  clay — wine,  oil,  and  easy-chairs.     This 

Kev.  G.  P.  S.  Q.  L.  B (though  I  forget  exactly 

how  many  names  he  has)  politely  received  us,  and 

invited  us  into  his  beautiful  church,  and  Mr.  P 

bade  us  farewell. 

Mr.  B was  so  courteous  that  he  showed  us 

the  church  himself,  instead*  of  putting  us  under  the 
guidance  of  a  verger ;  and  when  he  had  gone  quite 
round,  and  told  us  everything,  he  most  considerately 
departed,  and  left  us  to  enjoy  ourselves  as  long  as 

we  pleased. 

***** 

Just  as  we  were  entering  the  southern  porch,  the 
organ  was  sighing  like  an  Eolian,  with  a  wonderful 
effect  of  spirit-voices.  The  organist  was  practising. 
The  impression  which  the  v/hole  interior  made  upon 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPIFS  03 

me  at  once  was  of  perfect  and  compreliensible 
beauty.  It  could  all  be  included  in  a  glance,  tliougli 
it  measures  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  tlie  west 
front  to  the  chancel  east  window.  The  organ  ig 
most  happily  placed  at  the  side,  so  that  there  is  a 
clear  sweep  of  viev/  from  one  extremit}^  to  the  other. 
What  a  pitj^  that  it  is  not  so  with  the  vast  cathe- 
drals !  If  I  were  Queen  of  England,  I  would  have 
every  organ  moved  from  the  arches  of  the  choirs. 
At  the  western  front,  one  enters  the  bell-tower — the 
grand  tower,  three  hundred  feet  high,  and  seen  at 
sea  forty  miles  aAvay.  There  is  a  stone  roof,  sculp- 
tured just  beneath  the  lantern,  in  which  hangs  the 
bell.  Standing  beneath  this  lofty  roof,  we  looked 
upon  a  space  which  may  be  called  a  lesser  transept, 
before  the  columns  of  the  nave  begin,  with  a  door 
right  and  left,  south  and  north  ;  and  exactly  in  the 
centre  of  this  space,  stands  a  font  of  stone,  richly 
sculptured,  raised  on  a  very  broad  pedestal  of  three 
wide,  spreading  steps.  Over  it  hangs  a  coronal  of 
gold  and  blue,  a  light,  airy  chandelier  of  fine  tracery, 
in  two  or  three  concentric  circles,  climbing  into  a 
spiral  form. 

There  are,  I  think,  seven  columns  on  each  side  of 
the  nave,  and  above  them  fourteen  windows  in  the 
clerestory,  whose  pointed  arches  are  trefoil-headed. 
The  roof  of  the  aisles  then  slopes  downward  from 
the  nave,  and  there  are  seven  much  larger  and  loftier 
windows,  which  pierce  the  sides  north  and  south. 
The  choir  has  some  oak  tabernacle-work,  stalls,  and 


64  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

ancient  carved  seats,  made  very  uncomfortaLle  foi 
monks,  so  that  if  thej^  grew  a  little  sleepy,  and  were 
not  very  watchful,  they  would  be  sure  to  tumble 
down  with  a  crash.  These  seats  are  elaborately 
sculptured  beneath,  with  droll  devices.  One  is  a 
group  of  naughty  school-boys,  driven  by  a  master, 
v/ith  a  whip.  One  is  a  bouquet  of  cats  and  monkeys 
playiug  together.  Under  some  grins  Apollyon. 
The  backs  of  them  and  the  terminals  are  carved 
with  every  variety  of  head,  and  flower,  and  animal, — 
no  two  alike.  They  often  end  in  lovely  quirls,  or  in 
angels  or  cherubim,  mixing  up  heaven  and  hell  in 
the  strangest  wa3\  "  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for 
to-morrow  we  die,"  the  monks  seemed  to  say  with 
their  chisels.  Sometimes  the  back  of  a  stall  endeav- 
ors to  run  off  in  this  manner. 

"While  I  was  sitting  in  the  choir,  papa  and  J • 

mounted  to  the  top  of  the  grand  tower,  and  a  verger 
hovered  round,  who  had  previously  been  paid  a 
shilling  to  let  me  alone.  Presently  the  chief  organ- 
ist came  in,  and  I  told  the  verger  I  wished  he  would 
play ;  and  he  replied  that  he  had  come  to  give  a 
lesson  to  the  lad}'  organist.  But  I  saw  him  whisper 
to  him,  and  while  I  was  trying  to  sketch  the  eastern 
window,  after  the  lesson  w-as  over,  my  musician 
kindly  burst  forth  in  a  magnificent  symphony,  which 
made  all  the  saints  and  apostles  radiate  brighter 
light,  and  live  and  breathe.  The  verger  declared 
he  was  the  best  organist  in  the  country,  and  I  was 
not  inclined  fo  dispute  it. 


OLD  BOSTOJSf  AND  ST.  BOTOLPIFS.  GH 

The  cliancel  is  uncommonly  beautiful.  The  east 
window  is  filled  with  painted  glass,  well  designed, 
and  of  superb  hues.  The  middle  light  represents 
first  Jesse,  in  crimson  and  blue,  sitting  at  the  lowest 
point,  as  the  root  of  David.  Above  him  stands 
Mary,  holding  the  infant  Jesus,  wiih  Joseph  at  her 
side.  Above  is  Christ  upon  the  cross  ;  and  highest 
is  Christ  in  glorj^,  crowned  and  sceptred,  as  Judge 
and  Kins:.  All  the  lights  on  each  side  are  filled 
with  apostles  and  saints,  and  also  David.  The 
pointed,  trefoiled  and  quatrefoiled  headed  arch  over 
all  looks  studded  with  jewels  ;  but  upon  examina- 
tion these  are  found  to  be  the  heavenl}^  host,  in  the 
centre  of  whom  stands  .the  arcliangel  Michael, 
trampling  upon  the  Dragon.  I  do  not  know  why 
the  effect  of  the  tints  of  this  great  window  is  golden, 
yet  the  choir  glows  Avith  a  sort  of  permanent  sun- 
shine, which  is  peculiar  to  St.  Botolph's.  Now  I 
think  of  it,  it  may  be  that  the  windows  on  each  side 
are  filled  with  yellow  stained-glass,  and  it  is  a  lovelj^ 
idea  thus  to  make  perpetual  sunny  radiance  over 
the  altar,  whatever  the  weather  may  be. 

The  perpendicular  lights  contain  Christ,  Mary, 
and  saipts.  The  altar  beneath  the  Avindow  is  sump- 
tuous with  crimson  velvet  and  gold,  and  a  heavily 
carved  oaken  chair  stands  on  each  side  of  it.  And 
before  the  chancel  is  a  low  screen  of  blue  and  gold, 
a  kind  of  brass  work,  extremely  light.  Within  are 
two  canclelabras  of  the  same  material  and  fairy 
workmanship,  and  others  like  them  are  placed  all 


68  NOTES  IJSr  ENGLAND. 

about  tlie  cliurcli,  and,  witli  the  coronal  over  the 
font,  look  wonderfully  beautiful,  when  lighted.  This 
delicate  blue  and  gold  also  goes  up  the  pulpit  stairs 
and  balusters,  looking  like  a  rich  fringe  with  tas- 
sels ;  but  upon  approaching  it,  I  found  it  was  rigid 
metal. 

There  are  two  alabaster  monuments,  one  support- 
ing a  knight  spurred,  with  his  helm  under  his  head 
as  a  pillow,  and  the  other  his  wife.  The  noses  of 
these  figures  have  been  restored,  and  also  their 
fingers,  and  the  vicar  has  a  great  ambition  to  adorn 
his  church,  and  intends  to  have  all  the  windows  re- 
filled with  painted  glass.  He  is  very  young,  and 
may  live  to  see  much  accomplished.  There  is  at  the 
door  a  strong  box,  for  the  reception  of  a  restoring 
fund,  and  I  trust  it  will  be  a  perpetual  bank. 

The  nave  is  full  of  carved  oaken  seats,  unlike 
cathedrals,  and  the  pulpits  are  in  the  midst  of  them, 
instead  of  being  in  the  choir.  Botolph's  town  was 
so  called  from  a  monastery  erected  to  that  saint  in 
634,  which  the  Danes  destro3^ed  in  870.  On  its  site 
this  church  was  built  in  1309.  Fox,  who  wrote  the 
"  Book  of  Martyrs,"  was  born  in  Boston.  We  have 
the  book,  but  it  is  too  dreadful  for  you  to  read.  We 
walked  round  the  small  chapel  in  which  Cotton's 
memorial  window  is  to  be  placed,  but  there  is  only 
one  grave-stone  in  it,  and  that  is  upon  the  floor.  It 
is  in  fine  proportion,  and  has  a  noble  western  win- 
dow.    Papa  and  J •  were  tired  of  waiting  for  me, 

and  when  I  was  ready  to  go  out  I  found  the  gate  ot 


OLD  BOSTON  AND  ST.  BOTOLPIFS.  G7 

tlie  door  locked  fast !  I  was  in  a  gorgeous  cage,  but 
felt  very  uncomfortable  not  to  have  my  freedom, 
and  stood  shaking  tlie  bars  till  tlie  clang  roused  the 
verger  who  was  outside,  and  he  laughed  merrily  at 
having  fastened  me  in.  As  he  had  been  paid  to  let 
me  alone,  I  suppose  he  did  not  dare  tell  me  he  must 
go  away. 

The  organ  was  still  murmuring  melodiously  as  I 
left  the  southern  porch,  as  if  St.  Botolph  were  sing- 
ing Yespers. 

On  my  walk  home,  I  saw  a  lovely  ruined  Abbey 
at  a  printseller's,  and  bought  it  for  you  to  copy  some 
time.  It  is  Crow!  and  Abbey,  which  I  hope  to  visit, 
as  it  is  near  Peterboro,  where  we  go  next. 

In  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday  (26th)  we  walked  out ; 
but  I  felt  tiredj  and  after  looking  at  the  old  Guild- 
hall, an  exceedingly  interesting  building,  vvitli  a  fine 
mullioned  window,  and  three  gurgoyles  rushing  tu- 
multuously  from  each  side  and  the  point  of  the  arch, 
I  concluded  to  go  back  to  the  Peacock,  and  take  an 
open  barouche,  to  drive  about  with  J  ulian.  Papa, 
you  know,  hates  to  drive,  and  prefers  to  wander 
without  purpose.  We  therefore  returned,  and  I  or- 
dered a  light  phaeton,  which  proved  delightfully  easj^, 
and  I  told  the  coachman  to  go  round  every  part  of 
Boston,  and  then  into  the  suburbs.  We  had  a 
charming  excursion,  and  old  Boston  reminded  one 
of  the  oldest  parts  of  New  Boston — those  parts 
which  are  antique  and  tumble-down,  at  the  North 
End.     There  is  scarcely  a  handsome  house  in  the 


68  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

town,  but  many  quaint  ones,  witli  OYei'hanging 
brows ;  and  in  the  suburbs  we  saw  an  enchanting 
House  of  Seven  Gables,  which,  being  all  covered  with 
perennial  i\y,  looked  as  the  one  described  in  the 
book  would  look,  if  ascended  into  the  heavenly 
Paradise.  It  was  sumptuously  rich  and  beautiful, 
and  I  wish  I  could  have  sketched  it. 

"We  passed  the  new  cemetery,  in  which  stood  two 
strangely-shaped  edifices,  I  suppose  for  the  reading 
of  the  burial-service ;  but  I  can  compare  them  to 
nothing  but  camelopards — giraffes. 

^  ■?{-  ^-  -JS-  -If  ■Jf 

"  The  Peacock"  is  such  an  aged  bird,  and  really 
there  is  no  end  to  its  tail,  though  it  is  not  quite  so 
long  as  the  neck  of  the  Saracen's  Head  in  Lincoln, 
which,  you  know,  I  told  you  was  miles  in  length. 

The  solemn  waiter  has  not  smiled  yet,  because  he 
never  will  nor  can  ;  but,  despite  his  ungraciousness, 
I  think  vre  have  felt  particularly  at  home  in  Boston. 
We  have  had  the  Queen's  weather,  and  all  the  ladies 
are  in  muslins. 


IV. 

PETEEBOKO  CATHEDEAL. 

Peterboro,  May  28tli. 
We  left  Boston  at  half-past  twelve,  and  our  route 
was  tlirougli  still  a  flat  country,  covered  with  lambs, 
buttercups,  and  white  heifers.  There  is  a  great  pre- 
ponderance of  white  cows  in  this  region,  perfectly 
white,  and  the  young  heifers  are  beautiful  We 
passed  through  Kirton,  and  thereabouts  was  a  storm 
of  apple-blossoms,  and  the  hawthorn  trees  and 
bushes,  in  great  profusion,  were  in  the  fullest  bloom. 
I  never  savv^  so  much  hawthorn  bloom  before  in 
England.  We  saw  very  many  of  the  prettiest  little 
colts  in  the  world,  trotting  gently  beside  their 
mothers,  with  a  singularly  modest  air,  as  if  they  felt 
rather  delicate  about  being  seen  on  their  new  legs. 
There  is  always  something  very  refined  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  colt. 

We  stopped  a  moment  at  Sutterton  and  Surfleet, 
and  crossed  the  river  Glen,  one  of  England's  narrow 
ribbons  of  rivers,  and  then  came  to  Pinchbeck, 
where  I  presume  that  the  metal  called  i^inchbeck- 


70  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

gold  was  invented.  We  saw  tlie  outside  of  a  fine 
old  clmrcli,  wMcli  I  wisli  we  could  liave  entered. 
Indeed,  I  should  dearty  love  to  go  into  every  one  of 
tliese  old  village  cliurclies,  for  I  have  no  doubt  they 
are  extremely  interesting,  and  with  strange  histories 
and  monuments.  We  passed  one  quite  closely,  and 
there  were  some  funny  gurgojdes  upon  it  in  the 
shape  of  imps,  with  elbows  pressed  on  the  buttresses 
(in  default  of  sides),  as  if  they  said,  "  Now  for  it !  off 
we  go,"  in  the  act  of  springing ;  but  yet  forever  held 
fast  in  stone.  It  is  an  extraordinary  idea  of  these 
gothic  architects  to  give  this  rushing-away,  active 
expression  to  the  centuries-enduring,  fixed  stone.  I 
wonder  if  it  is  an  image  or  emblem  of  the  hopeless 
longing  of  the  monks  to  escape  from  their  thraldom. 
I  have  a  singular  desire  to  break  the  bonds  of  these 
headlong  gurgoyles,  and  let  them  go.  They  have 
such  an  impetus  in  their  motion,  that  it  seems  as 
they  would  shoot  out  of  all  human  vision  in  a 
second,  if  they  were  freed.  Did  you  ever  observe 
those  on  the  roof  of  Henry  the  Seventh's  chapel  in 
Westminster  Abbey  ? 

We  now  came  to  Deeping  Fen,  which  perhaps 
means,  the  fenniest  of  fens.  It  was,  however, 
adorned  with  a  great  deal  of  beautiful  rose-haw- 
thorn in  perfect  bloom.  *  *  *  England  is  just  now 
in  fullest  blossom — fruit-trees,  May-flowers,  purple 
and  white  Persian  lilacs,  like  plumes,  so  soft  and 
delicate,  and  everywhere  the  graceful,  j'^ellow  labur- 
num, dropping  gold ;  also,  of  course,  the  greenest  of 


PETERBORO    CATHEDRAL.  71 

grass,  as  if  it  had  been  that  moment  washed  in  a 
shower— so  that  though  the  land  was  flat,  there  was 
much  about  it  most  grateful  to  the  eyes.  I  observed 
that  a  great  many  lambs  had  been  taken  for  a  pur- 
pose I  will  not  name,  so  that  the  dams  had  but  one 

child  apiece,  instead  of  their  rightful  two.     J 

undertook  to  wonder  how  each  lamb  could  know  its 
own  mother  ! 

When  we  arrived  at  Peakirk  and  Croyland,  we 
regretted  our  tickets  were  not  for  Croyland,  for,  in 
that  case,  we  might  have  stayed  there  all  night,  and 
seen  the  abbey.  As  it  was,  we  kept  on  to  Peter- 
boro.  The  Eailway  Hotel  being  directly  upon  the 
station,  we  walked  into  it.  I  immediately  looked 
out  of  the  windows  to  find  a  glimpse  of  the  cathe- 
dral, and  I  saw  a  portion  of  the  western  fa9ade  and 
pinnacles,  and  the  top  of  a  mighty  arch. 

After  dinner  we  took  a  walk.  Peterboro  is  a 
very  small  town  gathered  in  front  of  its  glorious 
minster.  It  is  the  cathedral,  and  nothing  else.  We 
soon  came  to  the  market-place,  on  one  side  of  which 
is  the  Guildhall,  now  used  for  a  butter-shop,  beneath 
the  lower  pillars.  Opposite  to  it  is  a  stone  gate- 
way, which  is  the  entrance  to  the  Close.  As  we  en- 
tered the  Close,  the  world  seemed  shut  out,  as  it 
always  does  inside  these  monastic  retreats.  Eter- 
nal ]-)eace  is  within  their  gates,  and  upon  me  the  ef- 
fect of  the  three  vast  arches  of  the  western  facade 
was  more  sublime  and  magnificent  than  that  of  any 
architecture  I  have  yet  seen  in  England.      1  was 


73  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

wliollj  unprepared  for  tlie  vastness  and  splendor  of 
tliis  cliurcli.  No  one  had  ever  spoken  of  it  to  me, 
and  I  had  never  read  about  it.  I  believe  there  is 
no  other  facade  like  this  in  the  country — the  arches 
being  much  higher  than  that  we  so  wondered  at  in 
Furness  Abbey — three  arches,  perfectly  uuiDJured. 
I  did  not  know  before  what  a  grand  power  lay  in  a 
lofty  curve,  and  words  can  never  convey  an  idea  of 
it.  The  first  impression  was  that  those  arches  had 
more  to  do  with  heaven  than  earth.  Though  the  line 
returns  again  to  the  same  level  from  which  it  rises, 
yet  it  seems  to  have  been  transfigured  as  it  soared 
and  sang  in  its  circuit.  They  are  the  emblem  of  a 
saint's  soul,  whose,  visible  form  still  exists.  He 
stands  on  the  earth,  but  his  s]3irit  has  ascended  into 
another  world,  and  remains  there,  in  truth,  though 
he  is  yet  with  us  in  mortal  guise.  They  are  an 
image  of  endless  aspiration  in  constant  rest. 

Between  the  gateway  and  the  cathedral  is  a 
pointed  entrance  into  the  cloisters  which  ivere,  for 
Cromwell's  soldiers  utterly  demolished  the  cloisters, 
except  the  inner  walls.  On  these  inner  walls  are 
the  remains  of  broken  arches  and  shafts.  The  lawft 
is  of  the  loveliest  pale  green  velvet.  On  its  south 
side  are  some  beautiful  high  arches,  drippiug  Avith 
wreaths  of  ivy.  If  you  can  recall  the  banqueting- 
hall  of  Conway  Castle,  with  its  lofty  vaultings  and 
mullioned  windows  hung  thickly  with  enormous 
vines  of  ivy,  you  will  be  able  to  fancy  how  these 
appear.     Entering  from  a  corner,  opening  through 


PETERBORO    GATHEDRAL.  73 

one  of  tliese  gaiianded  arclies  from  the  cloisters,  we 
were  in  tlie  former  refectory  of  tlie  old  Abbey,  now 
roofed  by  tlie  sky  and  floored  with  daisies  and 
grass.  Traces  of  the  Abbey  are  all  about  this  part 
— clustered  pillars,  broken  arches, — and  from  these 
we  went  into  the  cathedral,  by  one  of  the  southern 
doors.  The  service  was  not  cjuite  over,  so  we  walked 
quietly  up  the  stately  aisle,  with  its  fine,  Norman, 
groined  roof,  nearly  eighty  feet  high.  We  sat  down 
upon  a  seat  in  front  of  the  screen  of  the  choir  to 
wait  for  the'  end  of  the  function,  and  had  hardly 
time  to  glance  at  the  glories  around  and  above  us, 
before  a  verger  came  from  the  dropped  curtain  be- 
neath the  organ,  and  invited  us  to  go  in.  The 
prebends  and  choristers  were  chanting,  and  one 
lady  and  two  gentlemen  formed  the  audience !  I 
was  struck  into  amaze  by  the  choir,  its  effect  was 
so  gorgeously  rich,  so  loaded  with  ornament,  and 
the  chancel  so  singularly  shaped  in  semicircles,  with 
a  solid  wall  nearly  to  the  r-oof,  and  then,  broken  into 
superb  arches  opening  upon  other  arches  beyond 
and  behind,  in  the  Lady-chapel,  of  which  the  ceil- 
ing was  intricately  sumptuous ;  while  there  were 
glimpses  afar  of  rainbow-glass — mysteries,  and  fold 
within  fold  of  beauty,  revealing  remoter  beauty 
through  the  never-ending  arcades.  Ah  me  !  what 
can  poor  mortals  do  with  but  two  eyes  to  see  out  of, 
and  so  confined  a  space  for  the  heart  to  expand  in  ? 
I  was  glad  when,  after  the  chanting,  the  precentor 
said  "  Let  us  pray,"  and  I  closed  my  dazed  orbs 

4 


74  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

upon  all  visible  things.  The  "  Amen"  to  tlie  prayers 
was  pecnliarl}'-  beautiful — a  fountain  of  sweet,  young 
voices  and  organ  music,  rising  with  a  full  and  ex- 
panding tone  through  the  wilderness  of  spaces,  and 
returning  with  a  soft,  closing  cadence  into  silence 
again. 

The  chancel  of  this  choir  is  called  an  apse,  which 
means  the  rounded  end  of  a  church,  opposite  the 
nave.  There  is  but  one  other  of  Norman  date  in 
England.  Directlj^  over  the  altar,  on  the  roof,  is  a 
painting  of  Christ  sitting,  v/ith  all  the  apostles 
around  him,  involved  in  curling  lines ;  and  it  is 
written  on  a  scroll  which  encircles  the  whole,  "  I  am 
the  Yine,  and  ye  are  the  branches  ;"  and,  "  I  am  the 
Bright  and  Morning  Star."  The  bishop's  throne  is 
here  very  superb, — a  little  cathedral  in  itself,  of 
cunningly  carved  oak,  flaming  into  pinnacles.  All 
the  arches  of  the  apse  are  profusely  decorated  above 
the  clustered  shafts ;  and  with  the  pierced,  flying 
buttresses  and  tracery  over  the  windows,  and  the 
arcades  above  and  beyond  one  another,  I  received 
an  impression  of  magnificence  which  no'  other  choir 
has  given  me ;  though,  on  account  of  being  smaller, 
it  has  not  the  grandeur  of  that  of  York  Minster. 

After  the  service  was  over,  there  was  a  great  cere- 
mony of  waiting  for  a  venerable  old  Canon  to  de- 
scend from  his  stall  beneath  the  organ,  All  the 
choristers,  prebends,  minor  canons,  and  the  precen- 
tor arranged  themselves  in  a  reverent  manner,  while 
behind  stood  an  ancient  verger  with  a  rod  in  his 


PETEBBORO    CATHEDRAL.  7u 

hand.  The  venerable  Canon  was  h^me,  which  made 
his  descent  very  slow  ;  but  Avhen  he  came  upon  the 
level  with  his  subordinates,  he  bowed  graciously  to 
them,  and  took  the  precedence  in  vanishing  beneath 
the  curtain.  It  was  pleasant  and  grateful  to  see 
such  deference  to  infirm  age. 

We  left  the  choir  on  the  south  side  to  go  and  look 
at  the  altar,  and  \ve  stepped  from  the  door  directly 
upon  the  stone  beneath  which  Mary  Queen  of  Scots 
was  buried,  after  her  execution  at  Fotheringay  Cas- 
tle, near  Peterboro.  Her  son  James  afterward  re- 
moved her  body  to  "Westminster  Abbey,  and  you 
know  we  saw  her  sarcophagus  there,  and  her  lovely 
effigy  upon  it.  In  the  aisle  we  met  a  young  verger, 
who  offered  to  show  us  the  cathedral.  First  he  told 
us  about  Queen  Mary's  grave,  and  then  we  followed 
him  into  the  Lady-chapel.  The  ceiling  of  this 
chapel  is  a  specimen  of  the  fan-vaulting,  of  which  I 
caught  glimpses  through  the  open  arches  of  the 
choir.  What  is  called  the  perpendicular  style  is 
particularly  famous  for  this  fan-vaulting,  which  is 
very  splendid.  Between  the  windows  these  superb 
fans  curve  over  and  meet  in  the  centre  of  the 
roof,  almost  touching  with  their  scolloped  edges. 
It  is  all  of  stone.  Beneath  the  thirteen  windows  is 
a  great  height  before  the  pavement  comes,  and  this 
space  is  filled  on  the  east,  north,  and  south  sides 
with  an  arcade.  There  are  seats  in  these  arcades 
all  round.  The  central  window  is  filled  wdth  painted 
glass  ;    but  it  is  modern  and  not  tasteful.      There 


76  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

are  six  windows  over  tlie  altar,  filled  with  wliat  was 
saved  of  the  superb,  old  colored  glass  from  the  de- 
structive hands  and  guns  of  Cromwell's  soldiers,  who 
were  in  a  particular  rage  with  this  cathedral,  be- 
cause it  had  been  considered  the  holiest  ground  in 
England,  and  kings  and  cardinals  put  off  their  shoes 
when  entering  its  gates.  There  are  but  very  few 
monuments  left.  One  is  very  curious,  and  it  is  the 
oldest  Christian  monument  now  to  be  seen  in  the 
land.  It  is  of  the  ninth  century,  and  in  memory  of 
Abbot  Hedda  and  his  monks,  who  were  killed  by 
the  Danes.  It  is  very  rude  and  worn,  and  the 
monks  are  the  funniest  old  frights  that  were  ever 
seen. 

At  the  northern  door  of  the  choir,  ever}^  one  who 
goes  in  or  comes  out  steps  upon  the  slab  over  the 
body  of  Catharine  of  Aragon,  first  wife  of  Henry 
Eighth.  She  died  at  Kimbolton  Castle,  in  Hunt- 
ingdonshire, and  was  buried  here.  "When  Henry 
was  told  that  he  should  baild  some  fair  monument 
to  her  memory,  he  replied,  "  Yes,  I  will  leave  her 
one  of  the  goodliest  in  the  kingdom,"  and  so  he 
spared  this  superb  cathedral ;  and  no  queen  has  such 
a  mausoleum  as  she,  and  I  hope  her  proud  and  in- 
jured spirit  Avas  somewhat  appeased  by  it.  It  was 
late  amends  for  the  king  to  make,  but  it  was  right 
royal.  There  is  a  shrine  near  this,  thought  to  be 
tliat  of  Saint  Ibba,  and  from  the  Lady-chapel,  all 
along  the  aisles  to  the  west  front,  on  the  walls  be- 
neath the  windows,  are  the  intersected  arches,  which 


PETERBORO    CATHEDRAL.  77 

first  snggested  the  pointed  arch.  I  took  great  pains 
to  draw  j'ou  some  of  them,  to  show  yon  the  transi- 
tion steps  from  Norman  to  the  early  English  or 
pointed  style.  The  Norman  arch  is  a  perfect  semi- 
circle, heavy  and  massive.  Doors,  windows,  and 
arches  were  all  rounded,  and  the  pillars  v/ere  very 
thick,  and  the  sculptured  ornaments  bold  and  rude. 
By  degrees  the  style  was  enriched  with  zigzag 
adornments  and  the  chevron;  and  then  came  the 
intersected  arch. 

The  verger  then  took  us  into  an  old  chapel,  where 
morning  prayer  was  offered  ;  ancl  there  is  some  ta- 
pestry on  the  eastern  wall,  worked  by  tAvo  sister 
nuns  before  the  Reformation.  There  are  two  pic- 
tures ;  one  of  Peter  and  John  curing  the  lame  man 
at  the  gate  of  the  Temple,  and  it  seems  to  be  from 
Raphael,  though  altered  a  little.  The  other  is  Pe- 
ter's release  from  prison  ;  and  the  angels  who  set 
him  free  have  the  most  hideous  faces  imaginable. 
Instead  of  angels,  I  should  call  them  devils.  A 
Eoman  soldier  sleeps,  headless,  on  one  side.  This 
chapel  is  a  ver}''  old  place,  with  curiously-carved 
screens  and  doors  of  almost  black  oak,  it  is  so  time- 
worn.  It  was  a  grand  coup  d'ceil  to  look  from  the 
east  end  of  the  Lady-chapel  to  the  western  transept, 
all  along  the  vaulted  aisle,  four  hundred  and  twenty- 
two  feet  !  more  than  twice  as  far  as  Bunker  Hill 
monument  is  high.  This  image  will  help  you  to  es- 
timate the  distance.  The  beautiful  groined  roof  of 
the  aisles  makes  an  enchanting  and  noble  perspec- 


78  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

tive  ;  only  some  foolisli  bisliop  or  clean,  whose  heart 
must  have  been  a  white d  sepulchre,  and  who  is  re- 
corded as  not  liking  rich  colors,  washed  over  the 
tinted  barnack- stone,  of  which  the  cathedral  is 
built,  with  a  j^ellowish  daub,  throughout  the  inside. 
If  Dante  should  award  him  his  punishment,  I  think 
he  would  dip  him  in  his  lake  of  pitch  of  which  he 
sings  in  the  "Purgatorio."  The  verger  said  there 
were  hopes  that  it  would  presently  be  all  scraped 
off,  and  the  primal  hue  restored. 

So  now  we  walked  down  the  mighty  nave,  v/ith  its 
strange  and  unique  roof  of  painted  oak.  It  is 
marked  in  lozenge-shaped  mosaic,  and  the  inter- 
stices are  filled  with  richly-colored  figures  and  de- 
vices, kings  and  queens,  bishops  and  abbots,  and 
emblematical  designs,  in  extraordinary  preservation, 
3onsidering  its  antiquity.  The  great  transept,  north 
and  south,  is  very  superb.  Its  roof  is  of  the  same 
3haracter  as  that  of  the  nave,  but  not  so  gorgeous 
in  color  and  device.  It  is  very  lofty,  and  there  are 
four  stages.  First  is  an  arcade  on  slender  piers, 
then  a  decorated  string-course,  then  an  arch,  through 
which  is  seen  a  window ;  then  again  arches  and 
windows  to  the  top.  One  capital  only  of  all  the 
piers  is  an  impish  head,  spitting  out,  as  it  were,  the 
shaft  from  its  mouth.  Now  just  fancy  this  work- 
man, busy  with  the  rest,  who  were  all  producing 
plain  capitals,  and  finally  showing  this  funny  head, 
not  to  be  altered  now.  These  stone  jests  are  cer- 
tainly very  singular.     How  the  sculptor  must  have 


PETERBORO    CATHEDRAL.  79 

grinned  to  himself  !  Tlie  arcLes  supporting  the 
tower,  which  lead  into  the  northern  and  southern 
parts  of  the  great  transept,  are  glorious  in  beauty 
and  in  size,  and  excel  all  others  in  England  in  these 
characteristics.  They  have  the  effect  of  those  of 
the  western  front,  and  must  have  been  designed  by 
the  same  person.  The  screen  is  lovely,  and  I  made 
a  sketch  which  I  will  draw  out  for  jon.  *  *  *  The 
pavement  of  the  whole  cathedral  is  wonderfully 
joined,  so  as  to  look  like  one  piece  of  stone.  The 
columns  that  support  the  nave  are  thirty  feet  in  cir- 
cumference, clustered,  with  Norman  arches. 

^  -s-  ■?;-  ^  *  ^r 

Coming  out,  we  v*'andered  round  the  Close.  Two 
sculptured  stone  gates  led  to  gardens  on  the  north- 
ern side.  We  entered  one,  and  it  opened  upon  the 
burial-ground,  which  extended  quite  round  to  the 
cloisters  again,  north  and  east.  Fine  old  trees  and 
shrubberies  adorned  this  cemetery,  and  opposite  the 
gate  by  which  we  went  in  was  another  beautiful 
arch,  giving  a  glimpse  into  some  wonderful  Arcadia, 
with  a  lawn  of  sunshine-green,  a  tree  of  rarest  love- 
liness, branching  out  from  the  very  velvet  sward,  so 
that  the  delicately-tinted  leaves  lay  on  the  grass 
lightly,  like  the  folds  of  a  lady's  airy  dress  ;  and  it 
rose  in  perfect  proportion,  somewhat  trained  by  art, 
into  pyramidal  tendency,  but  more  flowing  in  out- 
line than  the  geometrical  figure.  Papa  was  particu- 
larly transported  with  this  tree,  which  I  think  was  a 
beech.     Behind  it  was  a  grand,  dark  cedar  of  Leb- 


80  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

anon,  as  if  set  there  for  contrast  and  background  to 
tlie  beecli. 

Tlie  house  of  the  secretary  of  the  Bishop  stood 
beyond  the  cedar — a  picturesque  building  of  fawn- 
colored  stone,  with  blooming  plants  around  it,  and 
reaches  of  soft  lawn  leading  to,  inviting  shades  far- 
ther on.  An  avenue  of  noble  trees,  each  side  of 
the  smoothest  gravel  walk,  at  that  moment  made 
smoother  by  a  huge  stone-roller  in  the  hands  of  two 
gardeners,  led  from  another  arch  to  the  principal 
porch  of  the  house.  These  trees  met  in  fraternal 
communion  overhead,  arch  within  arch,  and  un- 
broken peace  brooded  over  all.  Peace,  such  as  the 
world  can  never  give,  seemed  established  in  this 
consecrated  retreat.  Behind  the  cemetery  there 
was  a  rookery — for  all  abbeys  have  rookeries — and 
the  rooks  cawed  incessantly ;  but  they  only  made 
the  peace  and  silence  perceptible  or  sensible, — ^just 
as  the  cricket  reveals  how  still  the  night  is — ^just  as 
the  shadow  makes  salient  the  light. 

This  was  originally  a  monastic  church,  founded 
in  665,  and  built  of  such  heavy  stones  that  sixteen 
oxen  could  hardly  draw  one.  Penda  was  the  Mer- 
cian king  who  commenced  it.  Ton  know  that  the 
IMercian  kingdom  was  the  largest  of  the  heptarchy, 
and  this  village,  originally  called  Medeshamstead, 
from  a  deep  gulf  called  Medes  Well,  famed  for  its 
very  cold  water,  is  in  Northamptonshire.  The  mon- 
astery of  Medeshamstead  was  afterward  finished  by 
King  Wolfen,  and  dedicated  to  St.  Peter,  and  then 


PETERBORO   CATHEDRAL.  81 

the  village  began  to  be  called  Peter  Burgli.  "When 
its  abbot  was  Hedcla  (in  883),  the  Danes  injured  the 
church  very  much,  and  it  was  restored  again  by  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  assisted  by  King  Edgar,  974. 
Successive  abbots,  before  and  after  the  Conquest, 
enlarged  it ;  for  these  great  Minsters  grow  from  age 
to  age,  like  flowers  which  it  takes  centuries  to  un- 
fold. The  name  of  the  sublime  architect  who  de- 
signed the  west  front  arches  is  lost,  unless  some 
one  succeeds  in  deciphering  that  vast  hieroglyph  of 
stone. 

After  gazing  into  the  paradise  of  the  Close  awhile, 
we  again  looked  at  the  few  remains  of  the  cloisters, 
once  illustrious  with  painted  glass  in  their  mullioned 
windows,  and  walked  through  the  refectory,  with  its 
majestic  arches,  festooned  with  ivy,  once,  no  doubt, 
also  radiant  with  saints  and  angels  in  rainbow  col- 
ors, and  passed  through  gothic  doors  into  narrow 
lanes,  with  many  ruins,  on  the  way,  of  the  former 
abbey — walls,  tithing  barns — until  we  came  into 
paths  leading  by  fishponds  and  streams,  perfectly 
dark  with  overhanging  trees,  where  the  monks  found 
their  Friday  dinners  and  Lenten  feasts — until  we 
wound  our  course  out  into  the  town,  and  came 
home. 

May  28th. — This  morning  we  went  again  to  the 
cathedral.  The  service  was  over,  and  we  walked 
into  the  open  door  beneath  one  of  the  western 
arches.     There  was  no  one  in  all  the  great  temple- 

4* 


83  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

We  found  the  door  of  the  Lady-chapel  unlocked, 
and  every  door  open,  in  the  most  hospitable  way — 
so  unlike  Lincoln.  We  wandered  about  at  our  own 
will  and  leisure,  and  there  was  no  sound  but  of 
our  echoing  footsteps  and  the  distant  cavfing  of 
rooks. 

I  stood  again  upon  Queen  Catharine's  grave.  It 
is  bare  now,  but  once  a  superb  canopy  hung  over  it, 
a  hearse  and  velvet  pall — as  well  as  over  Queen 
Mary's  ;  but  the  regiment  of  horse  under  Colonel 
Cromwell  demolished  them,  though  a  part  of  the 
hearse  is  preserved  somewhere.  The  painted  glass 
Y/as  particularly  rich  at  Peterboro,  so  that  the  sol- 
diers vv^ere  dazzled  with  its  splendor,  and  they  cried 
out  the  more  furiously  that  it  must  be  smashed,  be- 
cause the  idols  the  monks  v/orshipped  were  flaring 
on  them  in  their  gold  and  purple.  So  they  stupidly 
shot  at  the  saints  and  kings,  until  enough  only  was 
left  to  piece  out  a  few  windows  in  the  choir,  out  of 
all  the  multitudes  of  windows  full !  The  fan-vaulting 
was  more  beautiful  to  me  to-day  than  before,  and 
now  I  recognize  of  what  it  reminds  me.  Take  one 
of  the  divisions  by  itself  and  it  looks  like  a  rocket 
falling  in  stars  or  flowers,  the  motion  in  rest  every- 
where suggested.  In  comparing  Gothic  with  the 
Greek  architecture,  one  is  the  clear,  logical  under- 
standing, coming  at  truth  mathematically  by  the  way 
of  reason ;  and  all  this  range  of  truth  stands  beauti- 
ful and  sure,  on  lovel}',  even  pillars,  surmounted  with 


PETEBBORO   CATHEDRAL.  83 

square  pediments,  symmetrical  and  perfect  to  tlie 

eye.     I  think,  too,  of  tliose  lovely  faces  like  A 

G 's,  witli  lier  brows  in  a  straight  hne.    And  she 

is  a  person  of  clear  understanding-.  But  the  Gothic 
"  is  of  Imagination  all  compact,"  "  in  a  fine  frenzy 
rolling,"  glancing  from  earth  to  heayen  and  heaven 
to  earth — a  crystallized  poet,  as  it  were,  of  endless 
variet}^,  of  scintillating  fancy — soaring  in  "immor- 
tal curves,"  bafiling  geometric  conclusions,  setting 
known,  established  rules  at  defiance,  wild  beyond 
reach  of  recognized  art,  flaming  like  fire,  glowing 
like  flowers  and  rainbows,  soaring  like  birds,  strug- 
elino'  for  freedom,  and  like  the  soul,  never  satisfied. 
A  cathedral  is  really  an  image  of  the  whole  soul  of 
man  ;  and  a  Greek  temple,  of  his  understanding  only 
— of  just  decisions,  serene,  finished  postulates,  settled 
axioms.     We  need  both. 

Most  regretfully  we  left  the  mighty  Minster,  and 
took  a  last  look  at  the  Close.  Near  the  gate  leading 
into  the  secretary's  Eden  is  another,  opening  upon 
another  domain  of  a  Canon  or  Dean.  It  had  the 
same,  but  never-wearying  sunny  lawns,  rich  shrub- 
bery and  flowers,  and  birds  in  rapture,  all  embo- 
somed in  the  pervading  peace. 

In  one  corner  of  the  Close  is  Thomas  a  Becket's 
chapel  and  shrine,  now  the  chapel-school ;  and  boys 
with  the  square-topped  Oxford  cap,  and  an  immacu- 
late toilet,  were  standing  near — some  with  books, 
studying.     I  wondered  if  they  were  conscious  of  the 


84  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

place  where  they  were  standing,  and  of  what  was 
before  them. 

We  went  into  a  shop,  and  bought  some  engravings 
of  the  interior ;  but  not  a  drawing  that  I  saw  gave 
at  all  the  impression  of  the  grandeur  and  size  of  the 
front  archeSj  or  of  the  nave. 

^  ^  >fi  ^  ^  tfi 

Farewell. 


V. 
NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 

NoTTiNGEtAJi,  May  29  th. 

We  left  Peterboro  yesterday,  but  I  must  not  omit 

to  tell  you  that  J was  made  perfectly  bappy 

tbere  by  seeing  some  knigbts  in  armor,  who  bad 
come  from  Astley's  in  London.  Tbey  were  career- 
ing tbrougb  the  market-place,  and  tbey  brougbt 
back  to  bim  tbe  days  of  chivalry  and  romance,  and 
turned  common  life  into  poetry  at  once.     -^     *     * 

We  hissed  away  at  about  half-past  two,  and  had 
gone  but  a  fey/  miles,  when  w^e  passed  a  house 
covered  with  double  roses,  in  full  bloom — May-roses, 
of  a  lovely  crimson,  and  giving  an  air  of  supreme 
elegance  to  the  whole  place.  They  were  the  first  I 
had  seen  this  season,  and  were  the  more  precious 
for  that,  and  I  rendered  due  homage  to  the  queen 
of  flowers. 

We  were  happy  as  usual  in  having  the  carriage  to 
ourselves,  and  it  has  been  almost  invariably  the 
case  in  all  our  travels.  Once  a  gentleman  came  into 
our  private  boudoir,  and  after  sitting  a  few  minutes, 
seemed  to  be  conscious  of  intruding  into  domestic 


86  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

sanctities,  and  left  us  again,  for  wliicli  I  was  mucli 
obliged  to  him.  This  arrangement  is  very  pleasant, 
and  somewhat  like  posting.  The  great  plate-glass 
windows  are  as  good  as  the  air  to  look  through,  and 
one  can  have  the  prospect  without  dust.  We  passed 
the  town  of  Tallington,  and  the  country  began  to  be 
less  flat,  and  rich  and  beautiful. 

The  hawthorn-trees  hereabout  v/ere  enormous — 
as  large  as  the  largest  horse-chestnuts ! — and  so 
loaded  with  bloom,  that  each  one  seemed  to  have 
had  a  separate  snow-storm  upon  it.  There  was  a 
station  at  Bytham  also  ;  and  near  this  the  grounds 
of  Lord  Willoughbj^  d'Eresby  stretched  down  to  the 
track,  and  were  exceedingly  stately,  and  most  dain- 
tily cared  for.  Picturesque  old  villages  abounded 
as  we  went  on — clusters  of  ancient  cottages,  gathered 
lovingly  about  a  pretty  church,  which  was  often  a 
gem  of  beauty.  No  doubt  many  of  these  are  of 
remote  antiquity,  and  the  cottages  often  looked  to 
have  grown  around  them,  mossy  and  lichened,  and 
not  to  have  been  built  by  man  at  all.  At  last  Ave 
came  to  Grantham,  and  as  we  were  to  remain  an 
hour,  we  left  the  carriage,  and  walked  into  the  town, 
because  Sir  Isaac  Newton  wsnt  to  the  grammar- 
school  there.     There  was  an  old  market-cross,  with 

several  well-worn  steps  leading  to  it,  which  J 

ran  up,  in  memory  of  Sir  Isaac,  for  no  doubt  he  had 
stood  and  played  on  them  many  a  time.  "We  wan- 
dered on  to  a  church,  which  seemed  beautiful  afar 
off,  and  proved  very  much  so  near  by.     It  had  a 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  87 

lofty  spire,  two  liundred  and  seventy-tliree  fecit  high, 
and  painted  windows,  of  which  I  should  have  liked 
to  see  the  right  side ;  but  we  had  not  time  to  get 
admittance.  It  contains  a  carious  font  also.  Gran- 
tham had  a  monastery  once,  and  there  are  ruins  of 
it,  which  I  wish  we  could  have  searched  out.  The 
Angel  Inn  was  a  strange  old  place,  approached  by 
an  arched  entrance,  and  we  should  have  enjoyed 
staying  at  it  all  night.  The  inns  have  singular 
names,  and  were  all  blue — the  Blue  Ram,  the  Blue 
Lion,  the  Blue  Horse,  the  Blue  Man,  the  Blue  Cow, 
the  Blue  Bear — and  so  ou  through  the  animal  idng- 
dom,  and  I  marvel  it  is  not  the  Blue  Angel  as  well. 

Our  way  was  over  a  sumptuous  country  now,  and 
for  a  great  man}^  miles  we  saw  afar,  on  a  high  hill, 
Belvoir  Castle,  the  residence  of  the  Duke  of  Eat- 
land,  a  magnificent  structure,  and  it  must  be  of  vast 
size,  it  looked  so  extensive  at  a  distance.  Towers 
and  turrets  were  numerous  enough  to  supply  a  small 
town.  I  wisli  his  Grace  could  have  received  us : 
for  he  possesses  one  of  the  most  valuable  galleries 
of  pictures  in  England. 

On  we  hastened  through  Sedgebrook  ai,d  Battis- 
ford,  where  was  an  exquisite  little  church, — then  to 
Elton  and  Astlockton,  where  a  gentleman  intruded 
upon  our  family  circle.  He  was  a  peculiar-looking 
man  indeed,  and  as  he  sat  directly  opposite  to  me 
for  many  miles,  I  could  not  but  see  him  well,  so  that 
his  face  was  stereotyped  upon  my  retina  ;  his  eye- 
brows were  lifted  into  a  high  Norman  arch,  crump- 


8S  NOTES  m  mOLAND. 

ling  his  forelieacl  into  ribs,  like  the  sea-sand  after 
the  ebb  of  the  tide.  His  collar  was  lilce  a  carving 
of  marble,  so  stiff  and  polished,  and  his  toilet  was 
altogether  elaborate  and  without  fault ;  but  frozen, 
like  the  wonder  in  his  face.  "What  could  be  his  his- 
tory ?  I  was  inclined  to  exclaim  to  this  persistent, 
unmitigated  look  :  "  Keally,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  not,  I 
assure  you,  so  venj  surprising.  Pray  compose  joux 
mind  and  smooth  your  brow,  and  regard  the  matter 
with  a  reasonable  degree  of  indifference." 

,  Meanwhile  we  steamed  into  Bingham,  which  pos- 
sessed one  of  the  prettiest  of  churches,  and  herds  of 
perfectly  white  cows.  And  now  we  had  left  Leices- 
tershire and  entered  Nottinghamshire,  and  so  into 
Nottingham.  "We  asked  the  guard  which  was  the 
best  hotel,  and  he  strongly  recommended  the  May- 
pole as  "  a  hotel  every  one  admired,"  so  the  driver 
was  ordered  to  take  us  there.  It  was  close  by  the 
market-place,  through  an  alley,  and  did  not  look 
inviting  at  all.  I  feared  it  was  a  pot-house,  and 
fortunately  they  had  not  room,  so  we  drove  to  the 
George  the  Fourth,  Avhich  the  coachman  said  was 
the  first  in  town.  It  has  no  show  outside,  but,  like 
the  "  Clarendon"  in  London,  it  proves  within  the 
nicest  one  we  have  chanced  upon.  Our  waiter  is 
unexceptionable.  He  would  on  no  account  smile 
unseasonably,  but  it  is  very  evident  that  he  can 
smile  in  a  decorous  manner,  at  the  right  time. 
Everything  is  quiet  and  elegant,  and  the  table  per- 
fect in  style  and  quality. 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  8S 

Tliis  morinng  we  took  a  cabriolet,  and  drove  to 
Newstead  Abbej.  It  was  a  lair  day,  with  dim  sun- 
shine and  no  wind.  I  had  never  associated  Lord 
Byron  with  Nottingham,  and  j^et  I  could  think  of  no 
one  else  after  I  arrived  here.  No  doubt  he  came 
here  often,  as  it  is  the  nearest  toAvn  to  the  Abbey  of 
any  size.  As  we  drove  on  toward  Newstead,  we  had 
a  view  of  Nottingham  Castle,  and  nothing  else  of 
interest,  till  we  got  within  the  precincts  of  Sherv/ood 
Forest.  This  was  poetical  ground.  Richard  the 
Lion-hearted,  jolly  Friar  Tuck,  the  king  of  outlaws, 
and  all  the  merry-men  were  then  in  my  mind's  eye. 
though  there  are  now  no  thickets  or  century-trees, 
but  new  growths  of  pine  and  beech.  Newstead  Ab- 
bey was  once  all  surrounded  with  Sherwood  Forest, 
and  when  we  came  within  its  boundaries,  there  were 
fine  old  trees  left  standing  among  the  younger 
growth.  Generally,  the  Newstead  forests  were  ex- 
ceedingly gloomy  in  aspect.  There  was  a  great- 
uncle  of  Lord  Byron,  called  "the  wicked  Lord,"  who 
was  the  terror  of  the  country,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
his  ruthless  spirit  darkened  the  woods,  and  as  there 
was  no  subsequent  light  nor  joy  in  the  fortunes  or 
character  of  the  family,  the  heavy,  motionless  ever- 
greens looked  like  stern  frowns  of  doom,  and  fixed 
clouds  of  melancholy  fate. 

We  drove  ten  miles,  and  then  drew  up  at  a  small, 
nice-looking  little  inn,  called  "The  Hut,"  and  our 
coachman  averred  that  he  was  not  allowed  to  take 
us  any  farther  into  the  private  jjark.     I  supposed 


90  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

we  should  liave  but  a  sliort  walk  to  tlie  Abbey,  and 
so  was  notliing  loth  to  leave  the  carriage.  We  un- 
latched the  hospitable  gate  (Colonel  Wildman  being 
a  very  kind  and  open-handed  gentleman),  and  wan- 
dered along  the  broad  avenue,  winding  over  undu- 
lating ground,  at  first  through  woodland  scenery 

floored  with  violets,  v/hich  J began  diligentlj 

to  gather  for  memorials,  and  then  to  open  hunting- 
grounds,  covered  A^dth  ferns, — coverts  for  small 
game  ;  then  again  to  woodlands.  We  went  on  and 
on,  I  looking,  at  first,  to  see  the  towers  of  the  Abbey 
on  some  eminence,  forgetting  that  religious-  houses 
were  always  hidden  in  vales, — indeed  forgetting  that 
iSTewstead  Abbey  ever  was  a  religious  house,  till  I  wag 
reminded.  Presently  a  light  gig  came  up  behind  us, 
with  a  lady  and  gentleman  and  little  boy.  We  were 
astonished  at  this,  because  we  had  been  led  to  sup- 
pose that  no  vehicle  was  allowed  to  approach  in 
that  way.  They  passed  us ;  but  stopped  at  an  in- 
ner gate,  which  w^e  now  saw  ahead,  and  the  lady 
alighted,  and  the  gentleman  and  boy  returned.  The 
lady  climbed  up  a  steep  path  on  the  left,  evidently 
to  obtain  a  view  of  the  place,  and  we  entered  the 
gate,  trusting  now  that  we  were  near,  for  I  was  foot- 
weary. 

Soon  we  saw  a  gleam  of  water,  and  a  small  flag 
flying  from  a  tower.  This  is  a  sign  always  in  Eng- 
land that  the  family  is  at  home.  When  we  arrived 
at  the  lawn  before  the  front,  I  was  surprised  that 
the  Abbey  was  not  much  larger.     I  had  imagined  a 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  9i 

very  extensive  range  of  buiklmgs,  and  a  hroaclj  giit- 
tei'ino-  lake  before  tliem.  But  a  wkle  lawn  inter- 
venes  between  tlie  house  and  a  small  lake,  near 
which  are  the  stables,  a  row  of  low,  stone,  castel- 
lated edifices.  On  the  lawn  we  met  an  old  man, 
who  said  we  had  only  to  ring  at  the  porch-bell,  and 
some  one  would  admit  us.  A  small  footman  wel- 
comed US  with  a  smile  and  cordial  "  O  j'es"  when 
we  requested  entrance,  so  that  it  was  plain  what  the 
master's  spirit  was  about  receiving  guests.  We  en- 
tered a  low  gallery,  with  a  groined  stone  roof,  rising 
from  thick  pillars,  like  the  columns  and  arches  of  a 
crypt.  There  was  a  boat  of  light  material  and  con- 
struction on  the  pavement,  and  I  meant  to  ask  what 
its  history  was,  but  entirely  forgot  it.  Heavy  oak- 
carved  chairs  stood  against  one  side,  and  everything 
was  scrupulously  exact  and  ordered.  After  the  boy 
left  us,  it  was  some  time  before  we  saw  any  one,  but 
a,t  last  a  highly  respectable  dame  appeared,  and 
after  requesting  us  to  writa  our  names  in  the  visit- 
ors' book,  she  preceded  us  up-stairs.  And  the  very 
first  room  she  ushered  us  into  was  Lord  Byron's 
bedchamber,  precisely  as  he  left  it,  excepting  that  a 
table,  and  a  hnge  ewer  on  a  stand,  have  been  added 
to  the  furniture.  I  do  not  knov/  what  some  of  our 
fashionable  young  men  of  fortune  in  America  would 
say  to  the  plain  and  simple  arrangement  and  uphol- 
stery of  the  noble  lord's  private  apartment.  An 
oriel  window,  the  only  one,  commanded  the  lawn, 
water,  and  woods  beyond.     Two  large  arm-chairs. 


93  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

covered  Avith.  embroidered  silk,  stood  on  each  side, 
and  I  sat  down  in  one  ;  and  I  endeavored  to  believe 
tliat  I  was  really  there,  sitting  exactly  where  the 
poet  sat,  my  eyes  resting  on  the  same  landscape 
which  his  had  so  often  dwelt  upon.  Over  the  man- 
telpiece was  a  looking-glass,  into  which  I  gazed,  for 
it  was  the  very  same  at  which  he  dressed  his  hya- 
cinthine  locks,  and  met  his  own  melancholy,  defying 
eyes.  Prints  of  the  colleges  of  Cambridge  hung  on 
the  walls.  There  was  not  a  luxury  nor  an  adorn- 
ment of  any  kind  to  be  seen  in  the  room,  and  no 
attempt  at  any  unusual  comfort  or  ease ;  but  it  is 
just  a  chamber  with  bed,  toilet,  chairs,  tables, 
washstand,  in  ordinary  style,  not  even  la,rge.  Next 
to  it  is  a  smaller  room,  wdiere  his  lordship's  page 
slept,  and  once  there  was  no  access  to  it,  excepting 
from  his  own  ;  but  now  Colonel  "Wildman  has  cut  a 
door  into  it  from  the  corridor.  This  page's  apart- 
ment is  the  famous  haunted  one,  where  the  ghost  of 
a  monk  was  often  seen.  It  has  a  deep  Avindow,  the 
thickness  of  the  walls  causing  an  embrasure  of  sev- 
eral feet ;  but  otherwise  there  is  nothing  remarkable 
about  it.  It  is  left,  like  Lord  Byron's,  just  as  it  was 
in  his  time.  In  the  corridor,  leading  to  these  two 
chambers,  hung  tv\'0  pictures, — one  of  Murray,  the 
faithful,  attached  servant  of  his  lordship,  and  the 
other  of  his  fencing-master.  The  face  of  old  Murray 
is  very  interesting ;  he  looks  good  and  loving,  and 
it  is  an  excellent  painting.  We  lingered  about  this 
part  a  long  time.     An  uneasy  feeling  of  sadness  was 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  93 

caused  b}-  the  sense  of  his  former  presence ;  for 
there  was  no  peace  nor  true  happiness  in  him  at 
any  time,  and  so  the  m^ysterious  Od  left  b}^  his  foot- 
steps, his  touch,  his  glance,  his  hfe,  must  imjiart  a 
^ense  of  unrest  and  gloom.  It  was  pleasant  to  see 
the  kind  face  of  the  old  servant,  who  loved  him  so 
devotedl}?^  that  it  proved  a  povfer  in  Byron  of  deeply 
attaching  others  to  him,  when  in  a  simple  relation  to 
them.  I  doubt  not  he  had  a  warm  and  fiery  heart, 
wretchedly  embittered  by  the  circumstances  of  his 
early  life,  which  only  cultivated  the  evil  in  him,  and 
by  no  chance  unfolded  and  increased  the  good  ;  and 
he  died  in  earlj^  manhood,  attempting  to  do  a  gen- 
erous deed. 

Leaving  this  most  interesting  part  of  the  Abbey, 
the  housekeeper  led  us  into  all  the  state  chambers 
of  the  former  Abbots,  now  most  sumptuously  re- 
stored, and  made  delightfully  comfortable  and  habit- 
able by  Colonel  Wildman.  One  is  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond's chamber,  another  Heury  the  Seventh's,  another 
Eichard  the  Second's — either  because  these  several 
kings  had  occupied  them  aforetime,  or  because  their 
portraits  are  in  them.  There  are  fine  portraits  by 
Sir  Peter  Lely  and  Holbein  of  these  kings  and  their 
queens,  and  of  other  remarkable  persons  of  the  age 
of  those  painters.  I  was  particularly  arrested  by  a 
portrait  of  Charles  the  Second,  which  was  hung  in 
his  chamber.  It  was  not  the  dark,  animated,  force- 
ful face  I  have  always  seen  and  become  acquainted 
with ;  but  it  was  pale,  haggard,  thin,  joyless,  and 


94  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

worn,  as  if  lie  had  exhausted  all  liis  liuman  life,  and 
saw  no  happy  future  before  him  of  rest  and  blessed- 
ness. It  also  had,  singularlj^,  a  more  kingly  look 
than  any  other,  and  resembled,  more  than  any  other, 
the  right  royal  head  and  air  of  his  unfortunate 
father.  A  portrait  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  by  Holbein, 
was  unspeakably  ugly  and  jolly,  with  eyes  as  small 
as  a  pig's,  and  with  no  better  expression.  He  was 
unwise  to  sit  for  his  portrait,  when  he  had  become 
so  much  swallowed  up  in  his  body  that  he  could 
scarcely  see  out  of  it.  I  almost  think  that  Herr 
Hans  Holbein  revenged  himself  at  this  sitting  foi 
having  been  obliged  to  paint  the  "  Defender  of  the 
Faith"  so  many  times,  and  hoped  to  cure  his  majesty 
of  the  desire  to  be  repeated  again.  Artists  have,  to 
be  sure,  a  terrible  power  in  their  hands.  Eichard 
the  Second  looked  like  a  fool  in  the  picture,  but  it 
was  not  a  master  who  executed  that.  In  all  these 
rooms  were  superbly  carved  cabinets,  chairs,  and 
tables ;  and  in  one  was  a  cabinet,  toilet,  and  look- 
ing-glass which  belonged  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  very 
rich,  with  plate-glass  mirrors  all  over  them,  mounted 
with  gold.  They  were  magnificent.  Every  fireplace, 
or  rather  all  the  woodwork  over  them,  was  cut  into 
the  most  extraordinary  heads,  in  high  relief,  and 
some  half-figures  seemed  starting  horizontally  out 
of  the  wall,  and  both  figures  and  heads  were  bril- 
liantly colored  and  gilded.  They  were  portraits 
generally,  and  were  there  in  monkish  days.  The 
effect   was   gorgeous,   but,   upon    examination,   the 


NEW  STEAD  ABBEY.  95 

Avork  was  not  superior.  Gobelin  tapestry  of  the 
finest  kind,  beautiful  and  finished  as  paintings, 
covered  the  walls.  One  tapestry  face,  in  a  little 
boudoir  belonging  to  Henry  the  Seventh's  chamber, 
was  one  of  the  loveliest  I  ever  beheld  anywhere.  1 
have  never  before  seen  such  Gobelin  tapestry  as 
tliat.  One  of  the  beds  was  hung  with  it,  but  wrought 
with  silk,  not  wool.  In  every  room  was  a  centre- 
table,  furnished  with  every  convenience  for  sitting 
down  to  write, — so  tempting,  that  one  could  hardly 
resist  doing  so. 

While  we  were  standing  in  Henry  the  Seventh's 
chamber,  the  housekeeper  said  that  when  Lady  Love- 
lace, Lord  Byron's  daughter,  caine  to  Newstead,  two 
years  before  her  death,  she  slept  in  that  room.  She 
said  Lady  Lovelace  asked  of  Colonel  Wildman  a  great 
many  questions  about  her  fatlier,  and  I  wished  to 
hear  everything  she  could  tell  me ;  but  she  had  not 
much  to  say.     The  ladj^  stayed  three  days. 

"  Ada  !  sole  daughter  of  my  liouse  and  heart !" 

There  were  a  great  many  corridors  of  polished 
oak,  dangerous  to  walk  over.  These  had  richly- 
carved  chairs,  and  couches,  and  cabinets,  and  one 
was  adorned  with  two  chairs  and  a  sofa  that  had  be- 
longed to  Charles  the  Second.  They  were  of  ebony, 
sculptured  into  flowers. 

I  think  we  next  went  into  the  library,  a  long, 
rather  narrow,  and  charmiug  apartment,  with  study 
tables  dispersed  through  its  whole  length,  delightful 


96  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

lounges,  and  deep  cliairs  to  nestle  into,  with  precious 
books  ;  and  above  all  the  bookcases  hung  fine  pic- 
tures hj  Sir  Peter  Lely.  One  was  of  Nelly  Gwynn 
(a  famous  person  in  the  time  of  Charles  II.).  She  is 
exceedingly  beautiful  in  this  portrait,  with  small, 
graceful  head,  and  perfect  features,  a  mouth  pout- 
ing with  lovely  curves  and  coral  red,  and  cheeks 
like  roses,  and  every  line  of  face  and  form  delicate. 
There  were  also  marble  busts  upon  the  bookcases, 
one  of  Lord  Byron,  and  some  of  other  poets  and  of 
philosophers.  From  all  the  windows  of  the  state- 
chambers  and  library,  the  landscape  was  a  picture 
not  painted  by  human  hand,  combining  wood,  lawn, 
gardens,  and  water,  in  every  variety  of  beauty.  It 
was  to  the  state  dining-room  we  went  next,  formerly 
the  dormitory  of  the  Abbey.  Now%  it  is  a  superb 
hall,  panelled  with  rich  oak — military  weapons, 
corselets,  helmets,  stags'  heads  disposed  around — a 
vast  chandelier  in  the  centre,  and  gauntleted  hands 
and  arms  thrusting  themselves  out  on  every  side, 
each  one  grasping  a  vase-shaped,  ground-glass 
socket  for  holding  a  large  w^ax-candle.  In  the  up- 
per portion  of  each  arched  wdndow  was  painted 
glass,  commemorative  of  Colonel  Wildman's  and  his 
brother's  war-triumphs.  At  one  end  of  the  hall 
stood. a  knight  in  complete  armor.  Opposite  was  a 
gallery  for  a  music-band,  sculptured  in  oak,  with 
Gothic  panels  and  a  carved  balustrade,  making  a 
magnificent  effect.  Lord  Byron  used  this  room  for  a 
shooting-gallery.   The  Colonel  must  have  a  fine  per- 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  97 

ceptiA'e  taste  and  a  vivid  sense  of  fitness,  for  evcrj- 
tlnng  he  has  done  seems  to  be  the  work  of  past  ages, 
with  a  new  polish  on  it.  From  this  large  and  statel}^ 
banqueting-hall,  we  went  into  Lord  Byron's  dining- 
room.  It  is  exactly  as  he  left  it,  one  or  two  things 
added  ;  but  nothing  taken  away.  There  stands  his 
very  diniug-table,  rather  low,  but  of  tolerable  size, 
where  he  sat  and  passed  round  the  grim  drinking- 
cup,  made  of  a  skull,  and  mounted  with  silver. 
There  hangs  the  picture  of  his  faithful  dog  Boat- 
swain, one  of  the  few  friends  ayIio  never  disappointed 
him.  The  same  chairs  remain,  and  the  wine-coolers 
and  the  sideboard  ;  but  over  the  sideboard,  where, 
in  Lord  Byron's  life,  there  was  a  door,  a  great  mir- 
ror is  now  inserted  in  the  wall,  so  as  to  brighten  and 
reflect  the  room.  The  ceiling  is  heavy  and  lower 
than  in  other  parts  of  the  ilbbey,  and  it  is  very  plain 
and  simple  in  its  furniture  and  arrangement,  and 
there  is  but  one  window.  It  must  have  been  very 
gloomy,  and  the  kind  Colonel  felt  as  if  he  must  give 
it  another  bright  spot.  As  the  mirror  is  opposite 
the  window,  it  repeats  it,  and  gives  unexpected 
light,  besides  making  the  room  appear  twice  as 
large. 

The  drawing-room  came  next,  and  there  hangs  the 
famous  and  authentic  portrait  of  the  poet,  very  hand- 
some, and  yet  not  so  handsome  as  my  fine  mezzo- 
tint makes  him  out  to  be.  That  shows  a  faultless 
head  and  face ;  but  this  true  likeness,  though  intel- 
lectual, noble,  proud,  and  sensitive,  is  not  quite  as 

5 


98  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

syiTiinetrical  and  Olympian  as  my  old  print.  The 
eyes  are  not  so  large,  the  mouth  not  so  Apollo-like, 
the  brow  not  so  spacious  and  throne-like.  This  has 
the  clustering  hair  and  beautiful  throat,  however. 

William  of  Orange  and  his  Queen  Mary  also  are 
there,  and  several  portraits  of  the  Wildman  family, 
and  full-lengths  of  the  Duke  of  Sussex  and  of  George 
III.,  and  of  a  stern  and  fierce  lord,  v/ith  a  child, 
whose  pale,  thin,  gentle,  sweet  face,  makes  wonder- 
ful contrast  with  that  of  his  father.  The  father 
holds  a  stick  over  the  head  of  the  boy,  and  the 
housekeeper  told  us  that  Vv^ith  that  stick  he  struck 
his  child  upon  the  head  so  violently,  in  a  passion, 
that  he  became  an  idiot  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  This 
seemed  to  me  quite  a  fit  picture  for  the  Byron  halls : 
for  Lord  Byron's  mother  was  so  passionate,  that  she 
would  strike  him  witli  tongs,  or  shovel,  or  whatever 
she  could  find. 

All  kinds  of  rich  and  sumptuous  furniture  and  or- 
naments were  lavished  about  this  vast  drawing-room. 
Cabinets  of  turquoise-shell  and  ebony,  and  turquoise 
and  silver ;  but  nothing  interesting  as  connected 
with  Byron,  excepting  the  far-famed  skull  cup.  This 
skull  Mrs.  Shepherd  took  with  great  care  out  of  a 
cabinet,  and  I  held  it  in  my  hand  a  little  while.  A 
grim  and  ghastly  goblet  indeed  it  is. 

Before  this,  we  had  been  into  the  chapel,  a  very 
small,  but  lofty  apartment,  most  comfortably  ar- 
ranged for  the  family.  Up  a  few  steps,  on  one  side, 
is  a  thickly-carpeted  dais  or  gallery,  where  Colonel 


NEW  STEAD  ABBEY.  9£ 

"Wildman  sits  witli  liis  relatives  and  friends.  Even 
a  fireplace  is  there,  to  make  it  entirely  luxurious. 
Below  sit  tlie  servants  and  tenants.  I  cannot  recon- 
cile mj^self  into  this  division  of  human  beings  into 
high  and  Ioav,  rich  and  poor,  noble  and  simple,  in  a 
house  of  prayer  and  worship  of  the  one  loving 
Father,  who  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  In  this  the 
Catholics  behave  more  like  humble  Christians  than 
the  Protestants. 

This  room  was  once  the  Abbot's  Holy  Place  ;  but 
Lord  Byron  had  iised  it  for  a  dog-kennel,  until  Colo- 
nel Wildrnan  restored  it  to  its  original  purpose. 
There  is  now  a  dim,  religious  light  in  it,  and  a  quiet 
which  makes  it  seem  like  a  sacred  spot.  Divine 
service  is  regularly  performed  there  now. 

The  cloisters  are  all  perfectly  in  repair  and  sur- 
round a  quadrangle,  which  contains  a  fine  stone 
fountain,  that  once  stood  in  the  gardens.  Yarious 
strange  and  monstrous  beasts  are  sculptured  on  it, 
and  probably  they  once  spouted  water.  It  is  a  very 
ancient  work,  a  memorial  of  the  monks  of  past  time, 
who  were,  perhaps,  the  artists,  and  they  amused 
themselves  with  cutting  out  the  most  fantastic  forms 
and  heads.  It  was  removed  into  this  small,  snug 
quadrangle  to  keep  it  safe.  The  utmost  ruin  pre- 
vailed when  Colonel  Wildman  purchased  the  de- 
mesne ;  but  now  every  muUion  is  restored,  every 
broken  stone  replaced.  One  of  his  nephews  is  his 
heir,  and  will  inherit  all  this.  The  present  Lord 
Byron  is  a  cousin  of  the  poet,  and  belongs  to  Her 


100  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

Majesty's  household ;  but  though  he  and  othei 
members  of  the  family  often  visit  Newstead,  they  no 
longer  have  any  right  to  it. 

****** 

Now  we  were  again  in  the  crypt-like  entrance-hall, 
and  the  housekeeper  said  that  if  we  wished  to  see 
the  gardens,  we  should  gain  admittance  by  ringing 
a  bell,  just  round  the  tower.  *  ^'  -"  We  were  first 
led  over  the  grounds  which  Colonel  Wildman  has 
brought  from  a  wilderness  and  pasture  into  lovely 
lawns,  shrubberies  and  woodlands  of  all  varieties  of 
form. 

In  our  way  we  came  to  a  well,  which  the  man 
called  "  the  Holy  Well,"  and  at  that  moment  ap- 
peared a  little  boy  with  a  crystal  cup,  and  he  dipped 
up  for  us  the  pure  cold  water,  and  we  drank  of  it. 
There  were  very  aged  yew-trees,  also,  and  I  asked  a 
cutting  from  one  of  them  for  a  memorial.  The  gar- 
dener said  that  the  long,  straight  path  near  the 
pond  was  one  of  the  monks'  promenades.  Turning 
to  the  right  from  this  comparative  wilderness,  we 
went  along  an  avenue  of  trees  into  a  garden,  called 
"  the  garden  of  the  wicked  Lord."  In  the  centre  of 
the  principal  walk  were  two  statues,  one  of  Pan,  and 
the  other  the  guide  called,  strangely  enough,  "  Pan- 
dora after  her  fall."  Pan  looks  very  jolly,  with  his 
reed  pipe,  his  hoofs  and  his  horn,  and  "  Pandora 
after  her  fall"  responds  with  a  broad  grin  and  cor- 
respondent hoofs.  These  works  of  art  are  made  of 
load,  and  were  brought  from  Italy  by  "  the  wicked 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  101 

Lord,"  and  wlien  tliey  were  seen  by  the  people,  they 
excited  great  horror  and  fear,  for  they  believed  them 
to  be  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Satan,  embodiments  of  theii 
Lord's  wickedness.  The  form  of  the  fallen  Pandora 
is  very  beautiful,  and  her  hands  exceedingly  lady- 
like. But  we  were  taken  to  this  avenue  especially 
to  see  the  twin  trees,  upon  one  of  which  Byron  cut 
his  name  when  he  was  last  at  JSTewstead — his  own 
name  and  that  of  his  sister  Augusta.  This  tree,  so 
precious  to  all  who  value  the  poet,  has  withered  from 
the  root,  I  beheve.  At  any  rate,  the  trunk  is  sawed 
off  a  few  inches  above  the  inscription,  and  a  bit  of 
india-rubber  cloth  is  carefully  tied  over  the  place. 
The  twin  tree  flourishes  finely,  so  that  the  doom  of 
the  race  involves  the  other,  with  the  illustrious  name. 
Colonel  Wildman  thought  once  of  putting  the  por- 
tion that  has  such  a  melancholy  interest  into  a  glass 
case,  so  as  to  preserve  it  more  effectually  ;  but  the 
old  gardener  told  him  he  had  better  let  it  stay  in  its 
original  position  ;  for  it  would  be  more  valuable  to 
all  who  came  to  see  it,  to  stand  on  the  spot  his  lord- 
ship stood  upon  when  he  carved  it,  and  that  it  would 
certainly  last  as  it  is  now  during  the  Colonel's  own 
life.  So  it  remains.  When  Barnum,  the  American 
showman,  came,  he  sent  into  the  house  to  request 
Colonel  "Wildman  to  sell  it  to  him  for  five  hundred 
pounds  !  The  gardener  took  the  message,  and  the 
Colonel  returned  word  that  he  would  not  take  five 
thousand  for  it,  and  suggested  that  the  man  who 
proposed  such  a  monstrous  thing  should  be  shot. 


102  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

"We  then  entered  anotlier  garden,  in  which  is  an 
old  clematis  vine  clinging  round  a  tree,  and  the  vine 
is  as  large  in  circumference  as  the  trunk  of  a  com- 
mon tree,  and  seems  all  resolved  into  threads.  But 
it  is  alive,  and  the  gardener  said  no  man  living  could 
tell  its  age. 

Looking  up  from  this  endlessly  old  clematis,  I 
saw  at  an  oriel  window  of  the  Abbey,  looking  earn- 
estly out,  an  elderly  gentleman,  and  Mrs.  Shepherd 
by  his  side.  It  was  Colonel  Wildman,  trying  to  see 
his  guest,  whose  name  he  had  read  in  the  visitors-' 
book. 

In  an  open  lawn,  near  the  house,  stands  the 
storied  oak  planted  by  Byron.  It  is  trimmed  bare, 
far  out  of  reach  of  human  hands  ;  and  when  I  asked 
the  gardener  for  some  leaves,  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I 
daren't."  He  was  forbidden  to  touch  it.  We  saw 
also  the  grave  of  his  lordship's  dog,  Boatswain. 
There  is  a  monument  erected  over  it,  consisting  of 
a  broad  platform  or  pedestal  of  several  steps,  upon 
which  is  placed  an  urn  upon  a  column,  and  on  one 
side  of  the  column  is  a  long  inscription.  Byron 
intended  that  his  sister,  Augusta  Leigh,  old  Murraj^, 
and  himself,  should  be  buried  there  with  the  dog, 
when  he  erected  this  mausoleum ;  but  the  dog  re- 
mains alone,  and  Lord  Bj'ron's  tomb  is  in  Hucknall 
church. 

The  last  thing  the  old  gardener  did  was  to  lead  us 
into  a  cellar -like  apartment,  containing  a  large  stone 
piscina,  where  the  monks  used  to  wash  their  hands. 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.  10c 

It  was  a  part  of  tlie  cliurcli  ouce  ;  and  from  it  we  weul 
into  tlie  nave,  wliicli  now  lias  the  sky  for  its  roof, 
and  grass  for  its  pavement.  Choir,  chancel,  all  is 
gone  utterly,  except  the  beautiful  west  front,  which 
is  in  a  line  with  the  front  of  the  Abbey,  and  has  a 
noble  arched  window  in  the  centre.  Beneath  it  is 
the  great  door,  and  two  smaller  arched  openings  on 
each  side,  all  richly  hung  and  garlanded  with  ivy, 
springing  from  roots  as  large  round  as  my  arm,  or 
even  waist.  I  asked  for  a  bit  of  this  reverend  vine, 
and  had  permission  to  take  what  I  would.  The 
effect  of  the  ivy  is  lovely,  as  one  stands  before  the 
facade,  on  the  lawn.  Fancy  a  decoration  of  dee]j 
lace  around  the  edges  of  all  the  arches — a  deep  lace 
of  green,  for  the  wall  inside  is  wholly  covered  with 
the  rich  foliage.  I  have  never  seen  any  print  of  this 
ruin  that  gave  the  least  idea  of  its  beauty,  and  I 
wished  excessively  to  try  to  sketch  it,  but  had  no 
means.  I  did  not  wish  to  come  away.  There  was  a 
spell  about  the  spot,  very  difficult  to  analj^ze  ;  for  I 
could  not  tell  whether  it  were  more  pleasant  or  sad  ; 
but  it  ^vas  the  spell  of  genius  and  beauty,  at  any 
rate.  I  felt  a  poignant  sorrow  when  I  thought  of 
Byron,  brought  so  near  as  he  was  by  standing  on 
his  very  homestead-ground — when  I  considered  his 
ruined  life  and  poisoned  genius — his  fiery  liea,rt, 
once  innocent  and  true,  turned  to  wormwood  with 
hate  and  indignation,  and  the  golden  promise  of  his 
dawn  darkening  into  a  lurid  storm  before  his  noon — 
and  no  purple  sunset  when  his  mortal  life  sank  into 


104  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

tlie  uiglit  of  death.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  saddest 
of  all  histories.  But  his  Father  in  heaven  alone 
could  know  all  his  temptations  and  all  the  hin- 
drances to  the  development  of  his  better  nature, 
and  He  only  knew  all  the  gracious  aspirations  and 
motions  of  his  spirit,  veiled  from  the  world,  which 
so  sternly  repelled  and  scorned  him,  and  too  savagely 
dishonored  his  remains,  even  when  they  were  brought 
from  Greece,  where  he  endeavored  to  do  a  noble 
deed.  I  hope  that  those  persons  who  rejected  him 
were  quite  sure  that  they  were  holier  than  he.  And 
it  is  just  as  well  for  him  that  his  body  lies  in  Huck- 
nall  church,  instead  of  in  the  glorious  old  Westmin- 
ster-Abbey, I  remembered  the  divine  words,  "  He 
that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him  cast  the  first 
stone." 

The  gardener  told  us  that  our  coachman  might 
have  driven  us  to  the  inner  gate,  and  that  the  reason 
he  did  not  was  probably  because  he  wished  to  have 
a  jolly  time  at  "  The  Hut."  So  when  we  arrived  at 
the  aforesaid  inner  gate  I  sat  down,  for  I  was  weary, 
and  obliged  the  man  to  meet  us  there,  where  he 
ought  to  have  driven  us. 

After  we  had  dined,  our  landlady  came  suddenly 
in  upon  me.  She  inquired  kindly  whether  we  had 
had  a  pleasant  day  at  Newstead,  and  I  civilly  an- 
swered "Yes,"  and  remained  with  suspended  pen, 
that  she  might  retire,  as  time  is  precious.  She 
talked  on,  however,  and  presently  asked  if  she  might 
sit  down.     I  was  much  annoyed,  but,  of  course,  I 


NE^V STEAD  ABBEY.  105 

said  "Yes" — yet  I  found  she  was  a  perfect  mine  of 
interesting  facts  about  the  Byrons.     By  degrees  she 

informed  me  that  she  was  Mrs. ,  and  that  her 

mother  was  very  highly  regarded  by  all  the  aristoc- 
racy, whom  she  was  in  the  habit  of  entertaining. 
She  was  especially  intimate  with  two  of  Lord  Byron's 

aunts,  who  lived  in  ISottingham  ;  and  when  Mrs. 

was  a  young  girl,  she  was  often  sent  to  them  by  her 
mother  with  messages.  And  once  she  'vas  going 
through  the  Market-place,  when  she'  met  a  little 
sweep,  upon  whose  bare  black  toes  some  one  trod, 
just  as  she  was  near  him,  and  the  boy  squealed  out 
"  Oh  Lord !"  when  she  heard  a  voice  behind  sa}-, 
"  Is  it  I  you  want?"  Looking  round,  she  saw  Lord 
Byron,  who  had  thus  responded  to  the  poor  boy  in 
very  gentle,  musical  tones,  with  great  kindness. 
*  *  *  *  -sf  V.- 

Two  years  after  Lady  Lovelace's  visit  to  New- 
stead,  she  died,  and  her  body  was  brought  to  this 
house  and  lay  in  state  in  the  great  drawing-room, 
covered  with  a  violet  velvet  pall,  embroidered  with 
silver ;  and  twelve  wax  candles  burned  round  it 
during  the  watch.  She  desired  to  be  buried  by  the 
side  of  her  father  at  Hucknall  church  ;  so  there  lies 
her  body  now. 

Note. — It  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  say  here  that  this  chaptei 
was  in  type  before  the  publication  of  JVIi's.  Stowe's  article  ou 
Lady  Byron.  —Publislier. 


ON  THE  "WAY  TO  SCOTLAND. 

Caklisle,  June  26tli. 

We  left  tlie  station  at  ten.  Our  particular  portei 
was  very  attentive,  and  papa  "wislied  me  to  corrupt 
him  with  a  shilling  ;  but  I  would  not,  because  I  did 
not  put  him  to  any  extra  trouble.  We  again  had  a 
carriage  to  ourselves,  and  were  extremely  comfort- 
able. The  country  was  so  flat  and  inexpressive,  to 
Preston,  that  I  ceased  to  look  abroad  after  awhile, 
and  read  my  books  about  Holyrood.  We  arrived 
at  Preston  at  eleven,  and  there  we  were  obliged  to 
wait  two  hours,  which  was  provoking  and  tiresome ; 
for  it  was  too  hot  to  v/alk  into  the  town,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  see,  if  it  had  been  cooler. 

At  one  we  started  again.  We  found  a  woman  in 
one  corner  of  oar  carriage, — a  queer  little  old-fash 
ioned  woman,  who  was  very  nearsighted,  very  nice, 
and  very  sleepy,  and  her  sleepiness  and  short  sight 
together  reduced  her  eyes  to  a  geometrical  line. 
We  went  to  Preston  on  a  Sunbeam,  for  that  was  the 
name  of  our  engine  ;  and  at  the  station  was  a  spir- 


ON  THE  WAT  TO  SCOTLAND.  107 

ifced,  comelj-looking  young  woman,  tastily  dressed 
in  a  cloth  jacket  and  hat,  with  two  feathers,  ^\'ho 
went  along  by  the  carriages,  calling  out  at  each  win- 
dow, "Times,  sir?  Will  you  have  the  Times?" 
Dickens  has  memorialized  her,  somewhere,  as  a  fa- 
mous little  person.  At  Bay  Storse  station  were  a 
great  many  large  damask-roses,  some  quite  faint 
with  bloom.  At  Lancaster  three  interlopers  crowd- 
ed into  the  carriage  (our  old  lady  having  left  us) — 
two  gentlemen  and  a  woman.  One  seemed  to  be  a 
solicitor,  both  from  his  looks,  and  from  a  paper  par- 
cel in  his  hand,  directed  to  "  Doctors'  Commons." 
The  solicitor  remained  till  the  end  of  our  journey, 
and  was  so  tired,  and  folded  himself  up  in  such  a 
strange  manner,  that  I  thought  once  he  was  going 
to  put  himself  into  his  pocket.  As  soon  as  we  were 
confined  for  a  few  moments  beneath  a  roofed  sta- 
tion, we  were  of  a  light  blaze  instantly  ;  but  the 
flames  were  quenched  when  we  issued  again  into 
outer  spaces.  The  earth  was  covered  with  the  white 
May-weed  and  buttercups,  and  the  road  bordered 
with  alder-bushes,  reminding  me  of  American  way- 
sides. At  one  wee  town,  a  bush  of  lovely  dark-red 
roses  shot  new  life  into  me,  and  I  begged  the  guard 
for  one.  He  plucked  one  for  me,  and  its  perfume 
was  restoring.  It  was  the  crimson-velvet  rose.  The 
bush  was  nearly  demolished  during  our  halt.  Papa 
solaced  himself  with  his  volatile  salts,  which  once 
nearly  cut  open  his  head,  with  its  penetrating,  pow- 
erful scent. 


108  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

•After  leaving  Lancaster,  where  we  peeped  at  tlie 
Castle,  and  thought  of  John  of  Gaunt,  the  country 
began  to  be  picturesque  and  hilly,  and  soon,  afar 
off,  we  saw  the  Scotch  mountains  on  one  side,  and 
those  of  Westmoreland  on  the  other — beautiful,  pale 
outlines  on  the  horizon,  wrapped  in  a  hot  mist. 
We  rushed  for  a  long  distance  by  a  narrow,  shallow, 
but  clear  stream,  flowing  over  pebbles,  at  the  foot 
of  successive  hills,  which  sometimes  were  very  high. 
And  there  were  many  dry  beds  of  torrents  from  the 
summits  down  to  the  narrow  river.  Often,  for  a 
good  distance,  the  hills  were  quite  bare,  and  one 
looked  much  like  hoary  old  Nab  Scar  of  English 
lake-memory.  Then  again,  delicious,  shady  wood- 
lands covered  the  slopes,  and  pretty  little  villages 
were  embosomed  within,  on  small  plains.  I  saw 
very  few  cattle, — only  one  or  two  flocks  of  sheep,  no 
longer  shaggy  with  long  locks,  but  running,  comfort- 
able, in  sheared  skins,  enjoying  the  breezes.  It 
was  enchanting  to  see  the  mountains,  after  so  much 
flat,  and  I  only  wished  your  eyes  were  resting  on 
them  as  well  as  ours. 

I  was  struck  with  a  singular  arrangement  in  some 
of  the  pastures.  In  each  of  the  four  corners  of  a 
square  lot,  trees  were  merrily  flourishing  in  a  trian- 
gular pound,  exactly  as  if  they  had  been  caught 
straggling  about  as  vagabonds,  and  fastened  up  in 
groups  for  safe-keeping,  while  not  a  shrub  was  to  be 
seen  on  the  whole  pasture  besides. 

At  Penrith  we  saw  the  ruins  of  a  castle  close  by 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  SCOTLANU.  102 

the  traclv,  a  very  few  remains  of  thick  brich-walls 
and  battlements.  Some  bits  stood  up  miraculously 
— so  narrow  and  unprotected  that  I  should  think  a 
high  wind  would  throw  them  over.  They  were  of 
great  depth,  however. 

We  passed  Milnthorpe,  the  town  of  roses,  where, 
two  years  ago,  we  all  stopped  and  took  the  stage  for 
Windermere  and  Newby  Bridge,  as  you  will  remem- 
ber. And  you  remember  my  charming  coachman, 
done  up  in  drab,  with  a  face  like  a  mammoth  peony, 
bursting  out  of  his  collar.  Ah !  the  happy  days  of 
Windermere  !  But  there  were  no  roses  to  be  seen 
in  Milnthorpe  now,  and  we  shot  by  in  a  few  minutes. 
At  five  we  arrived  at  Carlisle,  and  the  guard  said 
"  The  Bush"  was  the  best  hotel,  so  here  we  are.  A 
grave,  ministerial,  dignified  butler  received  us,  and 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  nice,  pleasant  parlor,  look- 
ing upon  the  High  Street  (I  suppose).  At  the  end 
of  double-twisted  turns  of  corridors  are  our  cham- 
bers, side  by  side.  I  hastened  to  mine  ;  for  with  a 
hundred  miles  of  soot  and  dust  settled  upon  me, 
what  must  I  have  looked  like  ?  It  seemed  to  me  as 
if  I  had  an  entirely  .new  face  when  it  came  out  of  the 
bath. 

Carlisle  is  on  the  river  Eden ;  and  after  dinner 
Ave  Avalked  out  to  a  bridge  over  it,  and  the  countrj' 
beyond  was  beautiful.  A  pretty  church  lifted  its 
spire  from  a  mass  of  foliage  on  an  eminence — Stan- 
wix  Church,  in  Stanwix.  We  were  searching  for  the 
cathedral,  and  at  last  I  asked  a  boy  v,'here  it  Avas, 


.10  NOTES  m  ENGLAND. 

and  found  we  had  already  passed  the  direct  street 
leading  to  it.  So  we  went  to  the  castle.  A  wide 
walk  surrounds  it  at  the  foot  of  the  walls,  and  this 
walk  commands  an  extensive  and  lovelj^  scene  of 
plain,  river,  woods,  and,  afar  off,  the  mountains  of 
Cumberland,  Westmoreland,  and  Scotland.  The 
walls  are  extremely  high,  and  supported  by  enor- 
mous buttresses,  very  close  together.  On  this  walk 
we  breathed  the  most  delicious  air.  A  stone  bridge, 
with  low  arches  and  round  Norman  pillars,  crossed 
the  river  Eden,  and  lambs  grazed  on  the  sunny 
green  meadow,  and  we  could  see  the  high  road  to 
Scotland.  On  one  side  of  our  broad  walk  was  a 
steep  terrace,  and  then  the  strong,  high  walls ;  on 
the  other,  an  abrupt  descent  of  a  hundred  feet, 
covered  with  trees  and  shrubberies  to  the  very  edge 
of  the  smooth,  fair  meadow.  So  we  circumambu- 
lated until  we  came  to  the  castle  entrance,  Avhere  a 
soldier  was  sentinel  at  the  outer  postern.  "We  passed 
him  to  the  inner,  and  there  a  youthful  artillery 
officer,  with  sword  and  cylinder  fur-cap,  took  charge 
of  us.  Several  men,  striped  with  red  and  gold,  and 
wretched  in  heavy  cossack  helms,  lay  about  the 
settles.  Queen  Mary  Stuart  was  confined  in  this 
castle.  That  hapless  queen  seems  to  have  tried  the 
prison-power  of  all  the  castles  in  the  laud.  We  saw 
the  site  of  the  tower  she  occupied,  of  which  the 
staircase  only  remains,  and  looked  at  the  terrace 
where  she  walked  for  exercise ;  and  then  Ave  went 
round  the  battlements.     There  were  three  old-fash- 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  SCOTLAND.  Ill 

ionecl  iron  guns,  not  used  now,  pointing  to  possible 
enemies  on  two  sides.  Across  one  opening,  wida 
enougli  to  admit  a  man,  boards  were  nailed,  be- 
cause, as  our  3'oung  officer  said,  the  sentinels  had 
sometimes  swung  down  from  it,  to  go  and  have  a 
merry  revel  for  the  night.  It  seemed  much,  too 
high  ;  but  he  said  that  wlien  men  were  very  tipsy,, 
it  did  not  liurt  them  to  fall  so  far ;  and  then  lie  con- 
fessed he  had  dropped  down  himself,  and  knew  v>^ell 
it  could  be  done.  But  some  legs  had  at  last  been 
broken,  and  one  man  had  been  killed,  so  now  it  was 
fastened  np.  The  view  was  wonderfully  beautiful 
from  this  height,  wliich  was  the  roof  of  the  donjon- 
keep.  We  could  look  down  upon  Queen  Mary's 
tower  also ;  and  on  the  steep  ascent  to  this  prome- 
nade, we  were  sliown  Queen  Marj^'s  vrell,  which  our 
guide  said  was  the  best  water  in  Carlisle ;  but  we 
had  no  cup  for  tasting  it.  This  young  soldier  told 
us  that  life  was  very  dull  in  the  fortress ;  and  ke 
looked  extremely  joyless,  v/ith  no  read}'  smiles.  He 
was  handsome — kis  profile  gem-like,  really  a  Greek 
head  and  face,  and  lie  was  doubtless  as  brave  as 
handsome,  for  on  his  breast  he  wore  a  medal,  wliicli 
liad  Victory  crowning  a  liero  on  one  side,  and  her 
majesty,  Yictoria,  on  tlie  other.  He  had  been  to 
tlie  Crimea,  and  had  not  a  sick  day  there,  though 
he  sufiered  on  the  voyage.  Everj^  one  of  the  present 
garrison  kad  been  there  also.  When  he  took  the 
medal  from  liis  breast  to  show  ns,  he  was  just  as 
joyless  as  before,  and  the  memory  of  his  brave  deeds 


11.3  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

gave  him  no  animation.  There  were  but  twenty 
men  in  the  castle,  so  that  the  duty  was  yery  heavy, 
lie  said,  the  turns  about  came  so  often,  and  he  could 
sleep  only  three  nights  of  the  week.  It  is  the 
monotony  that  seems  to  weigh  upon  him  like  a  mill- 
stone, and  crush  the  faculty  and  inclination  to  be 
gay  out  of  his  heart.  These  soldiers  are  condemned 
to  celibacy,  and  lead  prisoners'  lives,  in  effect.  Oh 
that  the  lion  would  make  haste  to  lie  down  with  the 
lamb,  and  let  the  little  child  lead  them  !— so  that  free- 
born  men  should  not  have  to  live  such  unnatural 
lives,  and  suffer  so  much  wrong  and  evil. 

Carlisle  is  an  old  Eoman  station,  and  doubtless 
this  castle  was  the  site  of  one  of  their  fastnesses. 
William  the  Conqueror  rebuilt  it,  and  William  II. 
repaired  it ;  and  it  was  taken  and  lost  by  the  Scots 
and  English  over  and  over  again  for  very  many 
years,  and  was  like  a  ball  tossed  from  the  hands  of 
the  one  to  the  hands  of  the  other,  in  a  game  centu- 
ries long.  It  was  the  outpost  of  the  English  against 
the  Scots,  just  over  the  Border.  Mary  Stuart's 
keeper.  Lord  Scrope,  once  restored  its  dilapidations  ; 
for  the  officer  said  it  was  exceeding  old,  built  before 
the  Christian  era,  two  thousand  years  ago. 

He  took  us  into  the  prison-cells,  in  one  of  which 
he  had  himself  been  locked  ud  for  two  nights  in 
succession ;  and  he  spoke  of  being  punished,  with 
the  same  quiet  manner  and  simplicity  as  he  told  us 
about  his  medal.  There  was  no  visible  emotion  in 
him,  and  it  was  heartrending  to  think  of  his  object- 


0I{  THE  WAY  TO  SCOTLAND.  US 

less  life,  so  without  interest,  that  it  was  all  one  to 
Lim  ^^'hether  ho  were  a  prisoner  in  a  cell  or  an 
officer  keeping  guard — whether  he  wore  a  medal  on 
his  breast,  or  broke  bounds  and  sprang  down  from 
the  battlements. 

He  recounted  a  legend  of  Lady  Scrope,  who  be- 
trayed the  castle  for  the  love  of  Queen  Mary,  and 
who  was  shot,  as  she  tried  to  escape  through  a  door 
which  he  showed  us,  now  forever  closed.  There  is 
a  deep  moat  on  one  side  ;  and  on  the  summit  of  a 
slope  Queen  Mary  walked,  and  watched  games  of 
ball  played  by  her  suite.  She  also  rode  on  the 
lovely  meadow ;  but  Sir  Francis  Kuolles,  who  was 
appointed  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  guard  her,  and, 
though  unwilling,  was  perfectly  faithful,  wrote  to  his 
royal  mistress  that  he  feared  she  might  be  rescued, 
and  taken  back  to  Scotland  hj  some  of  her  friends, 
if  he  allowed  her  so  much  freedom ;  and  finallj^  she 
was  removed,  for  greater  safety,  to  Bolton  Castle. 

Until  Scotland  and  England  became  one  kingdom, 
Carlisle  was  the  scene  of  perpetual  victory  and  de- 
feat ;  constantly  destroyed,  renewed,  burnt,  razed, 
and  built  up  again,  like  a  phoenix  rising  from  its 
ashes.  But  now  it  grows  yearly,  and  is  what  ihe 
old  chroniclers  would  call  a  very  fair  town,  and 
peace  folds  her  wings  over  it.  A  very  short  time 
ago,  the  keep  was  an  arsenal,  and  there  were  many 
arms  there,  which  made  a  fine  show ;  but  they  are 
all  taken  away  now.  One  of  the  largest  rooms  in  it 
was  used  last  Christmas  for  a  ball-room,  and  a  hun- 


114  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND, 

clred  and  jEifty  people  made  merry  in  the  grim  old 
place.  I  was  glad  to  see  our  sad  attendant  smile  at 
the  mention  of  this  jolly  dance.  Thei-e  was  no  more 
to  see,  and  we  bade  farewell  to  the  handsome,  triste, 
and  brave  young  sentinel,  who  had  interested  me 
very  much,  and  depressed  me  too. 

We  now  went  in  search  of  the  cathedral,  and, 
going  through  a  deep  arched  gateway  of  stone,  we 
entered  a  Close — another  cathedral  Close — :but  very 
small,  and,  instead  of  rooks  cawing  on  lofty  trees, 
we  heard  the  twitting  of  innumerable  sparrows.  At 
Peterboro,  the  effect  of  the  Minster  and  its  environ- 
ment was  like  a  hymn  of  the  gods  :  here  it  was  a 
simple  song.  The  building  looked  to  have  been  re- 
paired very  thoroughly,  and  recently,  all  the  corners 
and  sculptures  being  crisp  and  unworn.  The  re- 
newed part  is  of  reddish  stone,  and  the  old  Norman 
part  is  of  gray  stone,  and  it  is  renewed  in  the  deco- 
rated English  style,  and  some  intermediate  portions 
are  early  English.  We  admired  greatly  the  south 
porch,  with  its  lovely  wreath  of  carved  flowers  and 
birds,  and  its  fantastic  corbels,  and  also  two  seraphim 
as  corbels  to  the  principal  arch  of  the  entrance. 
The  east  window  is  vast,  with  a  heading  of  flowing- 
lines,  filled  with  painted  glass,  all  the  compartments 
adorned  with  cinquefoils  and  trefoils.  Statues  of 
saints  stood  on  canopied  brackets,  and  lovely  little 
circular  lights  were  placed  here  and  there.  We 
could  find  no  grand  portal.  The  western  front,  in- 
stead of  a  lofty  door  or  window  or  tower,  was  a  AvalL 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  SCOTLAND.  115 

supported  by  the  liugest  buttresses.  We  could  look 
througli  the  iron  gate  in  the  southern  porch,  but  it 
was  locked.  Through  it  we  could  see  the  transepts. 
The  clerestories  (which  are  .the  upmost  range  of 
arched  galleries  and  windows)  were  of  Norman 
architecture,  gray  and  ancient,  and  the  rest  looked 
new.  There  was  no  sign  of  a  verger,  and  we  thought 
it  too  late  to  go  for  one. 

On  one  side  of  the  Close  was  a  very  old  building 
indeed,  which  I  thought  might  be  a  part  of  the 
Abbey,  and  there  were  houses  in  this  retreat,  prob- 
ably of  the  Dean  and  Canons.  We  could  only  conjec- 
ture of  these  things  then,  and  left  it  till  to-morrow. 

June  27th. — J and  I  have  been  to  the  cathedral. 

*  *  *  We  tried  to  get  there  before  the  jnorning 
service,  because  we  had  so  little  time.  We  found  a 
venerable  man  working  in  the  grounds;  and  when  he 
discovered  we  wished  for  the  verger,  he  dropped  his 
spade  and  went  for  him,  and  returned  with  him  im- 
mediately. There  was  a  mild,  pensive,  contemplative 
look  in  his  face,  and  a  patient  quiet  in  his  manner 
and  figure  very  pleasant,  and  almost  saint-like.  Yet 
he  was  a  homely,  plain  man,  with  no  appearance  of 
good  fortune  and  good  cheer,  like  the  ruddy,  gentle- 
manly, well-informed  verger  of  Lincoln.  There  was 
refinement,  however,  in  my  twilight  verger,  John 
Scott,  which  his  shabby  coat  did  not  conceal.  As 
soon  as  he  began  to  talk,  I  found  he  was  scholarlj' 
and   cultivated,   and   that    the    cathedral   was    his 


116  NOTES  IN  ENGLAND. 

"  great  darling."  He  was  perfectly  cleliglitful  in  liis 
naturally  poetic,  dreamy  way,  and  I  found  lie  had  a 
fine  perception  of  art.  He  told  me  that  Cromwell 
had  utterly  destroyed  the  west  end  of  the  building. 
William  Rufus  founded  the  original  conventual 
church,  and  Henry  I.  finished  it  in  1101,  in  the  Nor- 
man style.  After  the  injury  of  a  great  fire,  it  was 
repaired  in  the  early  English.  As  it  was  long  in  re- 
construction, there  are  specimens  of  the  geometrical 
and  flowing  lines  ;  but  all  blend  together  wonder- 
fully, just  as  variety  of  character  makes  a  harmoni- 
ous company,  and  two  thousand  different  voices  can 
blend  into  one  mellifluous  tone,  as  happens  just  now 
at  the  Crystal  Palace.  The  aisles  of  the  choir  have 
been  scraped  of  plaster  and  wash,  and  now  look  per- 
fectly fresh,  and  the  hue  is  pale  porphyry,  like  the 
stone  outside,  and  the  groined  arches  are  ever  beau- 
tiful. The  Lady-chapel  was  demolished  as  well  as 
the  west  front,  and  the  vast  east  Avindow  is  new.  It 
is  to  be  entirely  filled  wdth  painted  glass,  and  the 
top  is  already  full,  as  I  perceived  yesterday ;  and 
now  that  I  saw  it  on  the  right  side,  I  found  it  ex- 
ceedingly rich.  A  Berlin  sculptor  was  employed 
upon  the  carvings,  and  the  verger  said  he  was  a 
man  of  extraordinary  genius,  and  made  sketches 
with  no  effort,  and  then  cut  the  stone,  or  cut  with 
no  pattern  at  all.  All  the  strange  gurgo3des  and 
corbels  and  bosses  were  his  handiwork,  and  had  in 
them  the  true  spirit  of  the  ancient  conceptions.  In 
the  choir  is  one  brass  left  upon  the  floor,  of  which 


02i  THE  WAY  TO  SOOTLziND.  117 

tlie  verger  iias  made  a  rubbing,  by  putting  papei 
over  it  and  using  black-lead,  so  that  the  result  is 
.  like  an  engraving  or  mezzotint.  There  were  so 
many  beautiful  arches  and  circles  of  lights,  that  I 
had  to  pull  out  my  pencil  and  go  to  sketching,  and 
John  Scott  seemed  well  pleased  that  I  cared  to  do 
so.  One  shrine  was  adorned  with  a  carving  of  the 
badge  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester— the  ragged  staff,  at 
least.  The  tabernacle-work  of  the  choir  is  quite 
black  with  eld,  and  a  side  screen  betv/een  the  stalls 
and  the  altar  was  of  the  same  date,  and  coA^ered 
with  heads  of  saints,  and  every  imaginable  device 
of  flower,  bird,  and  beast.  The  verger  showed  me 
what  looked  like  a  brass  tablet  of  a  devout  bishop, 
very  dehcately  engraved,  which  he  told  me  had  re- 
cently been  electroplated  with  gold,  and  that  he  had 
had  an  engraving  taken  of  it.  He  was  very  proud 
of  this. 

But  the  hour  for  the  service  approached,  and  he 
had  to  leave  us  once  in  a  while  to  ring  the  bell ;  and 
fearing  to  interrupt  him,  I  reluctantly  took  leave  of 
him  and  his  "  great  darling,"  just  as  his  Keverence 
the  Dean  issued  from  his  house,  in  white  linen  robes, 
with  a  scarlet  scapulaire  and  a  square-topped  cap, 
preceded  by  an  official  with  a  silver  mace.  As  he 
appeared,  a  troop  of  young  choristers  ran  down  the 
steps  of  the  old  building  I  had  supposed  a  remnant 
of  the  Abbey  (and  it  ivas  the  former  refectory  of  the 
Abbey),  and  followed  him  into  the  cathedral,  when 
at  once  the  organ  rolled  forth  its  thunder. 


]^OTES  11^  SOOTLAISTD. 

I. 

BURNS'  REGION". 

DUMFKIES, — MAUCnLINE, — AyK, — BONWIE   DOOK. 

Dumfries,  Juue  27th. 
Heee  we   are,  in  Burns'  town,  where   lie   lived 
many  years,  and  died,  and  was  buried,  and  where 
the  great  mausoleum  was  built  over  his  body. 

Mauchline,  June  28th. 
I  COULD  write  no  more  at  Dumfries  than  those  few 
lines,  and  those  were  written  in  the  station,  while 
waiting  for  the  train  to  fetch  us  here.  We  concluded 
to  come  to  Mauchline,  instead  of  going  on  rapidly 
to  Glasgow,  as  we  at  first  intended.  "^'  *  *  The 
weather  has  become  cooler  this  afternoon.  The 
comet  has  probably  switched  aside  its  fiery  tail,  and 
we  are  restored  to  England's  customary,  moderate 
heat.  Our  carriage  from  Carlisle  was  more  luxu- 
rious than  usual,  and  quite  pjivate  to  us.  Indeed, 
there  Avere  no  other  first-class  passengers.  We 
passed  the  Annan  river,  which  doubtless  flows 
through  Annandale.     The  country  was  very  flat  all 


120  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

about  there,  even  to  tlie  liorizon,  with  only  occa- 
sional clumps  of  foliage.  Yery  soon  we  came  to 
Gretna,  and  then  to  the  famous  Gretna  Green, 
Gretna  Green  is  on  the  very  line  of  division  between 
England  and  Scotland ;  and  young  people  who  re- 
solved to  be  united  whether  their  parents  w^ould  let 
them  or  no,  and  who  did  not  wish  to  have  their  bans 
published,  went  there  to  be  married  without  benefit 
of  clergy.  I  do  not  think  the  custom  holds  now — 
but  perhaps  it  does.  I  saw  a  lovely  wood,  where 
new  brides  and  bridegrooms  might  wander  at  will, 
and  the  country  was  all  very  pretty  thereabout. 
Afar  on  the  left  was  Solway  Firth,  to  the  shore  of 
which,  in  Annandale,  Burns  went,  for  the  s?Jce  of 
bathing  in  the  sea,  just  before  he  died.  He  had 
rheumatism  in  his  limbs,  and  the  salt  water  relieved 
him  for  a  little  while. 

After  passing  Gretna  Green,  we  were  refreshed  by 
the  looming  up  of  a  mountain  on  the  left,  and  now 
we  Avere  in  Scotland.  It  had  a  different  aspect  to 
England.  It  does  not  look  so  well  brought  up,  so 
delicately  nurtured  and  polished.  Old  Scotia  seems 
not  to  have  combed  her  hair — the  grass  looks 
rougher,  and  there  is  a  wilder  expression  on  the 
moors  and  hills. 

We  passed  Cammertrees  and  Euthwell,  and  now 
the  lovely  wreaths  of  blooming  sweetbrier  began  to 
beautify  the  hedge-rows  ;  and  soon  the  steep  banks 
were  covered  with  the  yellow  gorse  in  great  profu- 
sion, and  the  wild  pink  and  bowers  of  honeysuckle 


SUENS'  BEG  ion:  121 

(or  "  becsuckle,"  as  E calls  it).     The  foxglove 

also  abounded,  stiff  and  stately,  holding  all  its  cells 
open  for  the  fairies  to  nestle  in.  We  stopped  at 
Tliornliill,  and  mountain  beyond  mountain  rose  in 
the  distance  ;  but  first  we  passed  through  Oloseburn 
(no  doubt  named  so  from  one  of  those  shy  little 
streams  called  "burns"  by  the  Scotch),  overshadowed 
by  foliage,  and  closely  folded  in  by  narrow  banks.. 
After  Carron  Bridge  we  plunged  into  a  tunnel,  and 
were  cool  for  the  space  of  two  minutes  and  a  half ; 

and   issuing   thence,   J shouted,    "  A  ruin !    a 

ruin !"  and  on  the  left  there  stoo'd  a  few  shattered 
walls  of  a  small  castle — a  border  fortress,  perhaps ; 
but  I  do  not  know  its  story.  At  the  Sanquhar  sta- 
tion a  little  Scotch  bairn  called  out  "  Glasgow  Morn- 
ing Times"  in  such  broad  accents,  and  so  musical 
too,  that  we  thought  we  would  buy  a  paper  of  him — 
especially  as  he  was  the  first  who  spoke  Scotch  to 
us  on  Scottish  ground.  Presently  we  saw  "  Bute" 
on  an  engine,  which  looked,  classical,  and  at  last 
arrived  at  Dumfries,  where  we  were  to  remain  three 
or  four  hours.  So  our  luggage  was  locked  up,  and 
we  vralked  into  the  town,  red-hot  as  it  was,  near 
noon  of  day.  It  is  a  large  town,  and  we  toiled 
along,  and  turned  down  Shakspeare  Street,  and  by 
diligent  inquiries  arrived  at  Burns  Street,  and  found 
Burns'  house.  It  is  a  low  house,  of  two  stories,  and 
we  were  admitted  by  a  smiling  maid,  who  put  us 
into  a  small  parlor,  and  went  to  call  her  mistress. 
The  mistress  was  a  loosely  strung  woman,  with  a 

6 


122  NOTES  IJS^  SCOTLAXD. 

pale,  wasliy  face ;  and  slie  said  this  was  Barns' 
parlor.  So  we  looked  earnestly  at  it,  and  tried  to 
realize  his  existence  there,  till  she  took  us  up-stairs 
into  the  room  in  which  he  died.  It  was  also  small 
and  low,  and  had  a  side  closet,  where,  perhaps,  he 
wrote  and  studied.  The  house  is  now  an  Industrial 
School.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  people  can 
live  in  such  small  places.  After  lingering  as  long  as 
we  liked  to  detain  the  woman,  we  left  this  scene  of 
most  melancholy  days  in  the  poet's  life.  He  had  no 
thrift  nor  prudence ;  and  though  he  was  an  excise- 
man, and  had  a  tolerable  income,  he  yet  spent  so 
profusely  that  his  family  suffered  from  want,  and 
sometimes  did  not  feel  sure  of  enough  to  eat.  He 
had  a  wife  and  four  children  to  maintain,  and  was 
wretchedly  ill  himself.  In  days  of  former  despond- 
ency and  gloom  he  had  sung — 

"  I  wish,  tliat  I  were  dead,  but  I  no  am  like  to  die." 

ISTow  he  wished  to  live,  but  was  daily  like  to  die. 
The  government,  with  singular  meanness  and  cruel- 
ty, deprived  him  of  part  of  his  income  vvdien  he  was 
ill,  though  he  already  belonged  to  the  kingdom 
through  his  genius.  Genius  and  prudence  seldom 
come  together,  especially  when  it  is  poetical  genius  ; 
and  he  wrote  most  eloquently  and  ])athetically  to 
this  effect  himself.  "  There  is  not  among  all  the 
martyrologies  that  were  ever  penned  so  rueful  a 
narrative  as  the  lives  of  the  poets.  In  the  com- 
parative view  of  wretches,  the  criterion  is  not  what 


B  FENS'  BEGIOjS:  123 

thej  are  doomed  ^o  suffer,  but  wliat  tliej  ure  able 
to  bear.  Take  a  being  of  our  kind :  give  him  a 
stronger  imagination,  and  a  more  delicate  sensi- 
bility,— Avliich,  between  tbem,  will  ever  engender  a 
more  ungovernable  set  of  passions  tlian  are  tke 
usual  lot  of  man ;  implant  in  liim  an  irresistible 
impulse  to  some  idle  vagary — such  as  arranging 
wild-flowers  in  fantastical  nosegays — tracing  the 
grasshopper  to  his  haunt  by  his  chirping  song — 
watching  the  frisks  of  the  Httle  minnows  in  the 
sunny  pool ;  in  short,  set  him  adrift  after  some 
pursuit  which  shall  eternally  mislead  him  from  the 
paths  of  lucre,  and  yet  curse  him  with  a  keener 
relish  than  any  man  hving  for  the  pleasures  that 
lucre  can  purchase  ;  fill  up  the  measure  of  his  woes 
by  bestowing  on  him  a  spurning  sense  of  his  own 
dignity ;  and  you  have  created  a  ^vight  nearly  as 
miserable  as  a  [poor]  poet." 

In  judging  of  these  finely-strung,  fiery-hearted 
beings,  it  would  be  well  always  to  remember  this 
plea  of  Burns.  Ordinary  mortals  cannot  estimate 
the  dangers  and  temptations  of  those  who  are  gifted, 
as  Tennyson  sings,  with  "  the  Love  of  love,  the  Hate 
of  hate,  and  Scorn  of  scorn." 

After  leaving  the  house,  we  walked  up  the  High 
Street  to  the  Market-place,  and  into  a  hotel  to  lunch. 
This  hotel  was  the  one  in  which  Prince  Charles 
occupied  a  room ;  but  we  did  not  care  to  see  it.  It 
was  far  more  interesting  to  look  at  the  Globe  Inu 
on  the  other  side,  which  Burns  used  to  frequent, — 


134  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

by  liow  mucli  a  true  poet  is  greater  tlian  an  indif- 
ferent prince  !  Upon  the  windows  of  that  inn  Burns 
scribbled  poetry  with  his"  diamond,  which  was  a 
dangerous  weapon  in  his  hand — more  fatal  than  a 
sword ;  for  with  it  he  often  indelibly  recorded  his 
indignation,  his  satire,  and  his  wondrous  wit,  much 
to  the  detriment  of  his  fellow-men,  if  they  had  been 
guilty  of  a  mean  or  hypocritical  action. 

After  luncheon,  we  went  to  St.  Michael's  church- 
yard to  see  the  mausoleum ;  and  we  were  much 
annoyed,  in  our  strolls  through  the  town  of  Dum- 
fries, with  the  noisome  odors,  giving  us  a  sad  fore- 
taste of  the  notorious  uncleanness  of  Scotch  towns 
generally.  A  grave-digger  unlocked  the  door  of  the 
churchyard,  and  then  resumed  his  grim  occupation. 
We  wandered  on  by  ourselves,  hoping  we  were  to 
be  free ;  but  a  woman  with  keys  soon  overtook  us, 
and  asked  us  if  we  wished  to  see  the  mausoleum. 
We  found,  therefore,  that  it  was  locked  up.  It  is 
round,  with  a  dome,  and  formerly  was  open  to  the 
air ;  but  the  marble  was  becoming  excessively  de- 
faced, so  that  now  the  spaces  between  the  pillars 
and  arches  are  glazed.  The  sculpture  is  by  Turne- 
relli,  in  very  high  relief.  Burns  stands  with  the 
plough,  and  Scotland's  Muse  hovers  in  the  air,  about 
to  va-ap  him  in  her  mantle.  He  is  looking  toward 
her  with  a  surprised  and  animated  air,  and  the  face 
is  said  to  be  a  perfect  likeness.  The  figure  is  stout 
and  well  made,  and  the  head  large  and  compact, 
with  clustering  hair,  large  eyes  and  mouth,  and  the 


BUBIfS'  REGION.  125 

whole  expression  pleasant,  I  tliouglit  tlie  hovering 
figure  pretty  and  graceful.  Tablets  of  marble  hang 
on  the  walls,  commemorative  of  all  the  members  of 
his  family.  He  died  on  the  22d  July,  1796,  when 
but  thirty-seven  years  old,  sixty-one  years  ago  ;  and 
in  1815,  when  his  coffin  was  removed  to  its  present 
abiding  place,  the  clustering  dark  curls  on  the  head 
were  as  glossy  as  in  life.  The  woman  who  was  our 
guide  was  remarkably'-  intelligent  and  good-looking, 
and  we  thought  she  talked  English  wonderfully 
■well ;  but  it  seems  she  was  a  Cumberland  and  not  a 
Scotch  person.  There  is  a  grand-daughter  of  Burns 
still  at  Dumfries,  whom  I  wish  we  could  have  visited, 
but  this  we  v/ere  not  able  to  accomplish. 

The  tombstones  in  the  cemetery  were  different  to 
any  I  have  ever  seen.  They  were  nearly  all  very 
high,  a  mere  facade,  with  an  inscription ;  and  the 
trade  or  profession  of  the  individual  always  put 
beside  his  name  :  i.  e.,  "  John  Lookup,  skinner" — (I 
cannot  imagine  what  that  trade  can  be,  unless  it 
was  what  Apollo  practised  in  respect  of  Marsyas), — 
"  Alexander  Johnstone,  paiuter."  There  were  three 
ancient  monuments,  the  oldest  of  1529.  Cromwell 
half  pommelled  them  down,  but  the  ruins  remain, 
and  it  seems  astonishing  that  some  violent  storm 
does  not  wholly  overthrow  them ;  but  the  guide 
averred  that  no  wind  could  move  a  stone.  She  took, 
us  inside  the  church,  to  show  us  the  marble  figure 
of  a  little  child,  whose  father  is  the  sculptor,  Dun- 
bar.    The   original  baby-form   lay   asleep,   draped 


126  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

only  in  its  beauty  and  innocence,  and  a  lady  wlio 
saw  it  was  so  much  affected  by  its  repose  and  love- 
liness, that  she  w-ished  it  for  her  own,  and  the  father 
actually  sold  it  for  a  hundred  guineas,  and  carved 
this  one  in  place  of  the  other  for  himself.  He  has 
slightly  draped  this.  It  is  a  pity  the  first  was  sold, 
for  it  was  doubtless  far  more  beautiful, — cut  "  in 
love  and  terror," — though  this  is  also  sweet  and  ex- 
pressive of  a  living  calm.  We  then  went  into  Burns' 
pew,  and  I  sat  down  where  he  used  to  sit, — a  great 
pillar  intervening  between  himself  and  the  minister  ; 
"  for  he  did  not  much  like  the  ministers,"  said  the 
woman.  He  may  have  had  reason  in  this  ;  but  that 
he  was  deeply  religious,  no  one  can  doubt  who  reads 
"  The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night."  It  was  here  that 
he  sat,  when  he  composed  the  poem  upon  the  un- 
speakable creature  upon  a  ladj^'s  bonnet.  The  lady 
so  unfortunately  immortalized  was  seated  directly 
before  him,  in  a  more  stylish  pew  than  his,  lined 
with  cloth : 

"  Ha !  wliare  ye  gaun,  ye  crowlin'  ferlie  ? 

Your  impudence  protects  you  saiiiy : 

I  canna  say  but  ye  strunt  rarely 
Owre  gauze  and  lace ; 

Tho'  faith,  I  fear  ye  dine  but  sparely 
On  sic  a  place. 

"  Te  ugly,  creepin',  blastit  wonner, 
Detested,  sbunn'd  by  saunt  an'  sinner, 
How  dare  you  set  j'our  fit  upon  her, 

Sae  fine  a  lady ! 
Gae  somewhere  else  and  seek  your  dinner, 

On  some  puir  body." 


BURNS'  BEGIOK  '     127 

We  enjoyed  much  seeing  the  scene  of  this  poem, 
and  it  was  wholly  unexpected.  This  was  the  end  of 
our  Dumfries  excursion,  and  now  we  are  at  Mauch- 
line. 

Mauchline  is  the  village  close  by  Burns'  farm  of 
Mossgiel,  where  he  lived  several  years  with  his 
mother  and  sister,  and  brother  Gilbert.  It  was  at 
Mossgiel  where  he  disturbed  the  field-mouse  and 
crushed  the  daisy,  and  composed  his  celebrated 
poems  upon  each.  It  was  in  Mauchline  that  Jane 
Armour,  his  wife,  was  born  and  bred,  and  where  he 
finally  married  her.  An  old  inn  in  the  village  street 
was  the  scene  of  his  cantata,  "  The  Jolly  Beggars." 
We  are  at  Loudon  Hotel,  the  principal  one — a  two- 
story,  rather  long  house,  with  a  look  of  newness  and 
neatness.  We  Avere  shown  into  a  homely  parlor,  and 
the  maid  took  me  up  into  the  chambers.  One  had 
two  closed  recesses  containing  beds,  which  is  a 
Scotch  style,  and  saves  the  expense  of  bedsteads, 
because  a  plain  frame  or  box  is  merely  nailed  up  to 
hold  the  bed,  three  sides  being  the  walls  of  the 
room.  Folding-doors  are  in  front,  which,  Avhen 
shut,  turn  the  apartment  into  a  parlor.  *  ^  *  The 
house  seems  clean,  and  the  landlady  is  a  nice  little 
woman,  and  the  landlord  a  well-read  man,  if  we  may 
judge  from  his  library  in  J 's  bedroom. 

After  tea  we  walked  up  the  village  street,  and  I 
found  out  which  was  "Posie  Nancy's  Inn,"  where 
'■'  The  Jolly  Beggars"  caroused  and  told  their  stories. 
There  are  but  three  or  four  streets. 


138  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

Just  as  the  green  country  opens  is  a  beautiful 
mansion  where  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hope  resides  ; 
and  an  ayenue  of  stately  trees,  making  a  superb 
arched  way,  was  very  tempting  to  enter,  but  as  it 
Avas  private  we  did  not  like  to  go  in,  though  the 
gardener  thought  his  lordship  would  be  very  willing. 

29th.  Sunday. — This  morning  we  went  to  kirk. 
It  was  sacrament  day,  and  the  services  were  four 
hours  long,  three  of  which  we  stayed,  the  last  hour 
and  a  half  much  against  my  will  and  capabilities. 
The  kirk  is  as  plain  and  homely  as  a  house  can  be 
made,  with  long,  narrow,  high  pews  on  each  side. 
I  do  not  accede  to  these  barn-like  houses  of  worship, 
while  close  at  hand  such  lordly  dwellings  are  erected 
for  man's  residence — as  that  of  the  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice, for  instance.  Why  not  render  our  best  homage 
in  art  and  architecture  to  our  Supreme  Father,  as 
well  as  our  best  devotion  ?  The  cathedral  builders 
were  right,  I  think.  Down  the  centre  was  a  pecu- 
liar arrangement.  A  narroAV  table  reached  from  the 
pulpit  to  the  door  of  entrance,  and  on  each  side  sat 
the  communicants,  as  closel}'  as  they  could  crowd, 
at  the  Lord's  table.  It  was  a  kind  of  interminable 
pevv',  for  behind  the  seats  was  a  back-piece,  all  the 
Vt^ay  up  and  down.  The  chief  pulpit  stood  high, 
and  beneath  it  was  another  one,  very  tiny,  like  a 
box,  and  ministers  occupied  both.  First,  the  most 
exalted  minister  gave  out  a  h^'mn,  or  rather  a  psalm, 
and  then  the  lower  clergyman  began  to  sing  alone, 


BURNS'  BEGIOK  129 

in  a  loud  key.  Before  he  had  finished  the  second 
line,  a  sweet  female  voice  joined  in,  and  before  the 
end  of  the  fourth  line  nearly  every  person  in  the 
v;hoIe  congregation  was  in  full  unison.  This  had  a 
very  beautiful  effect  indeed.  I  can  compare  it  only 
to  the  sun,  rising  over  a  river  of  closed  lilies,  as  it 
used  to  do  in  Concord,  and  as  the  rays  struck  each 
lil}'',  the  chalices  opened  and  gave  out  their  incense. 
All  around  me  this  gradual  waking  into  song  was 
quite  perceptible.  There  was  no  organ,  dulcimer,'  or 
harp,  but  the  human  voices  were  the  only  instru- 
ments, swelling  into  praise.  An  exceeding  long 
praj-er  followed,  not  so  edifying — another  psalm, 
and  then  the  sermon.  My  attention  was  now  di- 
rected to  the  minister,  and  he  was  an  extraordinary 
looking  person.  His  round,  swarthy  face  was  set  in 
a  frame  of  black  hair  and  wdiiskers  ;  his  brows  were 
black  and  heav}^ ;  and  when  his  face  was  still,  cast 
a  shadow  with  his  eyelashes,  J3ut  in  speaking,  he 
continually  lifted  these  heavy  eyebrows  to  their  ut- 
most possibility,  so  that  the  space  between  them 
and  his  eyes  looked  like  a  white  desert ;  and  as  he 
kept  up  an  incessant  lifting,  it  had  a  ghastly  effect, 
something  like  lightning.  In  addition  to  this  hard 
working  of  the  eyebrows,  he  twisted  his  mouth  awry 
at  every  word,  as  if  he  had  the  St.  Vitus'  dance. 
His  voice  was  naturally  low,  and  through  his  long 
sermon  he  strained  it  up  to  a  falsetto  tone,  and 
screamed ;  and  I  think  that  very  likely  this  effort 
sent  up  his  e^^ebrows.     You  may  fancy  the  effect  of 


130  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

all  tliese  manifestations.  He  spoke,  besides,  in  sucli 
a  broad,  Scotcli  accent,  that  I  could  not  catch  an 
entire  sentence  from  beginning  to  end  of  the  dis- 
course. His  text  was,  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest 
thou  me?"  When  the  sermon  was  over,  he  de- 
scended into  a  semicircular  enclosure,  and  actually 
preached  another  long  homily  to  the  people  about 
the  qualifications  for  communicants  ;  and  when  that 
was  finished,  he  turned  to  the  members  of  the 
church  who  were  sitting  at  the  table,  and  actually 
delivered  a  third  sermon  !  Then  the  bread  and  wine 
were  administered  by  five  elders,  while  another 
psalm  was  sung ;  and  when  those  then  at  the  table 
had  partaken,  the  minister — yes,  truly,  the  minister 
— uttered  a  foueth  address,  to  admonish  them  of 
their  renewed  obligations.  It  might  have  been  short 
and  impressive,  but  it  was  long,  and  too  diffuse  and 
wearisome.  Finally,  his  scream  ceased  to  torture 
my  ear,  and  all  who  sat  at  the  table  rose  and  left 
the  kirk.  I  was  now  sure  that  no  more  would  be 
said,  both  because  the  poor  man  must  be  exhausted, 
and  because  enough,  and  far  more  than  enough,  had 
been  already  said.  But  as  the  table  filled  again 
with  another  company,  a  new  minister,  fresh  and 
strong,  took  the  former  one's  place,  and  commenced 
another  exordium  !  This  was  the  fifth.  I  began  to 
grow  so  faint  from  the  long  confinement  in  the  hot 
atmosphere,  and  from  such  a  strain  upon  my  atten- 
tion and  ear,  that  I  feared  some  catastrophe,  and 
wished  to  get  out.     But  the  pews  were  very  narrow, 


BUBNS'  BEOION.  131 

and  six  great  women  had  crowded  into  mine  after 
we  liad  taken  possession,  and  it  was  impossible  to 
escape,  unless  they  had  all  filed  into  the  aisle  first. 
This  could  not  be  done  during  such  a  solemn  rite. 
I  concluded  that  when  this  second  group  had  re- 
ceived the  communion,  I  would  tell  the  women  they 
must  give  place,  and  let  us  go.  My  despair  grew  to 
its  height  when  the  minister  commenced  the  sixth 
sermon,  and  at  its  close,  I  seized  a  woman  and 
opened  my  lips  to  cry  out  for  deliverance,  when,  for- 
tunately, they  all  started  up  and  went  to  the  table. 
I  was  nearly  speechless  with  fatigue,  and  after  din- 
ner was  obliged  to  lie  down  for.  a  few  minutes,  but 
could  not  spend  much  time  resting,  as  we  were  to 
drive  to  Mossgiel  and  Ballochmyle  during  the  after- 
noon. 

"We  ordered  a  carriage,  the  only  one  in  Mauch- 
line ;  and  it  proved  a  remarkably  comfortable  sort 
of  chariot,  and  we  drove  to  Bums'  farm  of  Mossgiel, 
about  a  mile  from  the  village.  When  we  came  to  a 
very  old  hawthorn-tree  on  the  side  of  the  road,  the 
coachman  stopped,  alighted,  and  opened  the  door, 
without  a  word  from  us,  and  I  could  not  think  what 
he  meant.  But  he  informed  us  that  this  old  tree 
was  Burns'  "  Lousy  Thorn,"  and  that  pilgrims  to 
Mossgiel  had  cut  its  twigs  so  constantly  for  memo- 
rials that  it  was  nearly  demolished,  as,  indeed,  we 
could  perceive.  "  Some  of  it  has  gone  to  France, 
and  some  to  America,"  quoth  he.  So  papa  duly  cut 
off  a  bit,  out  of  love  to  the  poet.     Beggars  used  to 


132  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

rest  under  it  on  tlie  higliwaj^,  and  Burns  himself, 
from  Mossgiel,  often  enjoj^ed  its  shade  and  met  the 
beggars,  and  their  deplorable  squalor  gave  it  its 
hai'dl_y-to-be -spoken  name.  How  singular  that  a 
poet  should  have  made  that  unmentionable  insect 
classical ! 

We  were  noAv  on  high  land.  The  difficulty  with 
the  farm  used  to  be  that  it  was  too  high  and  cold, 
so  that  it  was  only  good  for  pasturage,  and  it  still  is 
famed  for  its  excellent  cheeses,  as  aforetime.  Soon 
Ave  turned  into  the  held  in  which  stands  the  home- 
stead, and  the  cottage  was  entirely  concealed  by  a 
hawthorn  hedge,  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  high  !  Pass- 
ing through  an  opening  in  the  hedge,  we  drove 
directly  into  the  farm-yard,  round  three  sides  of 
which  were  thatched  buildings  of  stone,  plastered 
white.  One  was  a  cow-barn,  another  a  storehouse, 
and  one  the  human  dwelling.  But  the  human  dwell- 
ing was  not  at  all  better  than  the  barn.  An  incredi- 
bly dirty  woman  and  dirtier  children  came  out  of  the 
cottage  to  look  at  us,  and  the  woman  said  the  family 
had  gone  to  sacrament.  (If  that  were  so,  the  sacra- 
ment lasted  all  the  afternoon  as  well  as  all  the  morn- 
ing.) She  went  into  the  storehouse,  and  the  driver 
told  us  we  could  enter  the  cottage  and  look  about,  if 
we  chose,  and  we  did  so.  On  the  right  hand  of  the 
narrow  lobby  was  the  kitchen,  and  a  small  girl  tend- 
ing a  baby,  Avith  two  other  children,  in  the  midst  of 
the  utmost  defilement  you  can  imagine.  Indeed, 
you  cannot  imagine  it.     It  exceeded  anything  to  be 


BURNS'  REOIOK  132 

found  in  any  land  but  Scotland.  The  gui  wlio  held 
the  baby  was  pretty ;  but  her  face  was  so  soiled  that 
it  was  clijfficult  to  see  through  the  grime  ;  and  she 
was  shy,  and  did  not  know  how  old  the  baby  might 
he,  nor  could  she  answer  any  question  whatever. 
We  looked  at  the  kitchen  in  which  Burns  once  had 
lived.  On  one  side  were  two  recesses — boxes,  hold- 
ing beds,  and  these  beds  were  indescribable,  and  all 
tossed  up.  Though  it  was  nearl}-  six  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  not  anj'thing  was  put  in  order — no  rag  nor 
cloth  was  smooth  on  those  horrible  beds.  I  was 
afraid  to  stay  long  in  such  a  place.  We  groped  far- 
ther into  the  lobby,  and  found  on  the  other  side  a 
room,  where  a  youth  sat,  eating  bread  and  cheese. 
He  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised  to  see  us,  and  con- 
tinued eating  in  great  composure.  There  were  two 
more  box-beds,  larger  than  those  in  the  kitchen, 
though  not  in  better  order.  We  then  went  up  the 
short  staircase,  and  saw  a  small  bedroom  on  each 
side.  One  contained  two  beds,  and  clothing  thrown 
about,  and  I  think  was  a  degree  worse  in  condition 
than  the  kitchen.  The  other  was  covered  with  nice- 
looking  cheeses,  and  really  clean, — the  only  clean 
spot  in  or  around  the  house.  It  is  infinitely  melan- 
choly to  think  of  Burns, — a  genius,  a  poet  of  fine 
perceptions,  a  being,  as  he  says,  "  of  a  stronger 
imagination  and  more  delicate  sensibility"  than  com- 
mon men — living  in  such  a  den.  One  other  door 
opened  into  a  store-closet,  and  this  was  the  whole. 
I  was  exceedingly  depressed  at  finding  Burns'  home 


134  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

so  squalid.  I  only  hope  and  believe  that  his  mother, 
who  was  a  woman  of  remarkable  piety  and  sense, 
was  also  unusually  neat  for  a  Scotchwoman,  and 
that  she  and  her  daughter  kept  everything  clean 
and  sweet.  This  I  unll  believe,  though  papa  says 
he  does  not.  We  peeped  into  the  barn  and  saw 
some  goodly  cows,  and  then  walked  down  a  path, 
and  papa  leaned  on  an  old  gate,  upon  which,  no 
doubt,  Burns  often  leaned,  and  looked  off  upon  the 
far-distant  hills  and  mountains,  with  smiling  plains 
between.  Near  by  were  fine  old  trees  ;  and  presently 
the  young  man,  who  was  so  diligently  eating  bread 
and  cheese,  came  forth  and  told  us  that  beneath 
the  finest  and  largest  of  these — a  plane-tree— Burns 
composed  a  great  many  of  his  songs.  Two  children 
followed  us  about,  staring  unweariedly,  and  at  last 
I  asked  one  his  name,,  and  he  replied  that  it  was 
Johan  Wiley  (I  think  the  people  here  pronounce 
John,  Johan),  and  finally  we  mounted  into  our  char- 
iot, and  drove  across  the  very  field — yes,  the  actual 
field  where  Burns  disturbed  the  mouse  and  ploughed 
down  the  daisy — immortal  mouse  !  immortal  daisy  ! 
The  field  was  thickly  covered  with  daisies,  as  if  they 
had  come  in  crowds  to  thank  him  for  his  exquisite 
poem  on  their  progenitor. 

Papa  sprang  out  and  gathered  a  handful  of  the 
myriads  of  daisies,  and  I  have  pressed  some  for 
memory  ;  but  the  houseless  little  mousie  has  utterly 
gone,  leaving  not  oven  its  wee  tail  behind,  though 
he  is  safely  embalmed  in  tlie  poem — more  safely 


Blfltm'  REaiON.  135 

than  any  royal  mummy,  or,  I  miglit  more  aptly  say, 
than  any  fly  in  amber  ;  for  amber  better  symbolizes 
this  poetry  than  cotton  cerements  and  gold-embroid- 
ered wrappings,  stee|)ed  in  spices. 

So  we  left  Mossgiel,  and  papa  mounted  the  box 
of  the  barouche  with  the  driver,  to  get  a  wider  view 
of  the  country,  and  I  was  left  to  my  meditations.  I 
could  not  recover  from  the  dirty  cottage.  I  could 
not  see  how  anything  pure  and  high  and  heavenly 
could  possibly  grow  and  flourish  in  such  a  noisome 
atmosphere,  with  no  space  for  decency,  no  leisure 
for  order.  But  God's  ways  are  not  ours,  and  His 
thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts,  and  doubtless  He 
has  his  own  shield  to  guard  the  innocent  heart  from 
wrong  ;  and  the  soul  is  not  necessarily  soiled  with 
the  body. 

The  afternoon  was  delicious,  for  a  cooler  temper- 
ature was  coming  on,  and  the  scenery  was  beautiful 
on  every  side.  We  now  were  in  pursuit  of  Balloch- 
myle,  where  Burns  met  the  lady  upon  whom  he 
wrote  the  song — 

"  The  bounie  lass  o'  Balloclimyle." 

Ballochmyle  is  the  estate  of  the  Alexanders,  and 
the  "  bonnie  lass"  was  a  Miss  Alexander.  We  soon 
arrived  there,  and  from  one  point  we  had  a  fine  view 
of  a  new  bridge  of  great  beauty,  with  one  mighty 
arch  in  the  centre,  and  three  small  pointed  arches 
on  each  side.     The  central  arch  was  the  frame  of  a 


136  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

pretty  picture  of  liill  and  wood  and  meadow  in  the 
distance,  and  the  valley  was  full  of  rich  foliage,  that 
covered  the  lower  portions  of  the  piers. 

Then  we  saw  the  very  bridge  on  which  the  lady 
was  musing.  The  road  was  deeply  shaded  on  each 
side  by  thick  Avoods  for  a  short  distance,  and  a  fairy 
bridge  of  iron  spanned  the  road  far  over  our  heads, 
springing  from  the  foliage-covered  rocks  on  one  side 
to  the  thickets  on  the  other,  and  leading  to  enchant- 
ing recesses  both  ways.  It  was  to  some  of  these 
bosquets  that  the  lady  was  wending  when  Burns 
saw  her.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  romantic 
spots  in  the  world.  The  Ayr  flows  on  the  right, 
taking  a  bend  just  there,  and  a  lofty  cliff  rises  al- 
most sheer  from  the  stream,  and  the  wildest,  fresh- 
est charm  pervades  the  whole  environment.  The 
waters  are  shallow,  and  the  pebbles  gleam  distinctly 
through  the  pellucid  ripples.  On  one  side  the 
perpendicular  crag,  on  the  other  the  meadow — not 
smooth  and  glossy  like  Genoa  velvet,  as  an  English 
meadow  would  be,  however,  but  unkempt,  because, 
as  I  said  before.  Old  Scotia  will  not  dress  and 
smooth  her  tangled  green  hair.  Dear  me!  It  was 
a  place  to  dream  in — a  place  to  fall  in  love — a  place 
to  sing  such  songs  as  Burns  sang. 

"  Her  look  was  like  the  morning's  eye, 
Her  air  like  Nature's  vernal  smile — 
Perfection  whispered,  passing  by, 
'  Behold  the  lass  o'  Balloclimyle.'  " 


BURN'S'  BEGIOK  137 

Most  reluctantly  we  left  tlie  delicate  bridge  so 
"  liigli  uplnmg." 

Soon  we  began  to  skirt  the  estate  of  Sir  James 
Boswell,  the  biographer  of  Dr.  Johnson.  It  was 
Auchinleck  on  the  right,  and  Ballochmyle  on  the 
left.  We  then  drove  to  Catrine,  which  is  called 
"  Scotland's  clean  town,"  as  if  there  were  but  one. 
It  was  there  that  Burns  first  saw  a  Lord,  the  Lord 
Daer,  a  nobleman  of  the  loveliest  chara.cter,  whom 
he  afterward  immortalized  in  a  poem,  beginning — 

"  This  wot  ye  all  whom  it  concerns, 
I,  Ehymer  Robin,  Robin  Burns, 

October  twenty-third, 
A  ne'er  to  be  forgotten  clay — 
Sae  far  I  claxnbered  up  the  brae — 

I  dinnered  wi'  a  Lord !" 

Catrine  was  not  a  very  pretty  town.  All  the  way 
back  to  Mauchline  village  we  constantly  had  on  one 
side  or  the  other  the  immense  estate  of  Ballochmyle. 
As  we  came  along  the  little  old  street  in  Avhich  this 
London  hotel  stands,  I  took  a  last  look  at  "  Posie 
Nancy's  Inn,"  where  the  Jolly  Beggars  told  their 
stories. 

29th. — It  rains  hard,  but  we  are  going  to  Ayr  at 
two  o'clock  to  see  Burns'  birth-place,  near  "the 
banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon."     Good-bye  ! 


138  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

Ayr,  June  29tli,  1857. 

We  arrived  at  this  fair  town  at  four  o'clock,  in  a 
dreary,  cold  rain,  and  I  shall  not  be  able  to  go  out 

to  see   anything  till  to-morrow.     Papa  and  J , 

however,  have  been  out,  and  walked  over  "  the  twa' 
brigs  of  Ayr." 

"We  drove  from  the  Loudon  Hotel  to  the  station 
in  Mauchline  in  the  rain,  not  having  time  to  stay 
for  fair  weather ;  and  while  waiting  for  the  carriages, 
we  saw  a  venerable  gentleman  walking  up  and  down, 
waiting,  as  we  "^vere.  Looking  at  his  portmanteau 
accidentally  as  I  passed  it,  I  saw  the  name  "  Alex- 
ander," and  no  doubt  it  was  an  Alexander  of  Bal- 
lochmyle,  some  cousin  or  brother  of  "  the  lovely  lass 
o'  Ballochmyle,"  whom  Burns  met.  No,  it  could 
not  have  been  a  brother,  but  it  might  have  been  a 
nephew,  perhaps.  I  glanced  with  interest  at  him, 
for  the  glamour  of  poetry  enveloped  him,  so  potent 
is  genius  to  glorify  every  slightest  thing  it  touches. 
Would  not  the  lips  of  the  lordly  Alexanders  have 
once  curled  in  disdain  at  the  suggestion  that  a 
ploughman  could  invest  their  race  with  a  mj'sterious 
charm  ? 

In  due  time  we  Avere  safe  in  our  carriage,  and  first 
stopped  at  Kilmarnock,  and  at  Stuarton  the  towers 
of  Eglinton  Castle  appeared  afar  off.  At  Dairy 
junction  we  changed,  to  part  off  from  the  Glasgow 
line.  For  if  you  will  look  on  the  map,  you  will  see 
that  we  were  obliged  to  come  farther  south  again  to 


BUBIfS'  REGION.  139 

get  to  Ayr,  which  is  ahnost  in  a  Kne  with  Mauch- 
line,  to  the  west.  Dahy  is  on  the  river  Garnock, 
and  next  to  it  is  Kihvinning,  in  which  is  the  ruin  of 
an  abbej^ ;  but  it  is  flat  and  sandy,  and  on  our  right 
we  began  to  see  gleams  of  the  Firth  of  Clyde  ;  and 
the  Isle  of  Arran  presently  appeared.  Ardrossan,  a 
sea-bathing  town,  is  situated  beyond  the  sands,  on  the 
shores  of  the  Firth  of  Clyde,  and  two  fragments  of  the 
Castle  of  Ardrossan  remain  on  a  promontory.  This 
castle  was  a  scene  of  one  of  Wahace's  exploits.  I  had 
a  glimpse  of  a  gable  of  the  ruined  abbey,  which  was 
once  very  grand,  founded  in  1140,  in  memory  of  St. 
Winning.  John  Knox  knocked  it  to  pieces,  and 
"  more's  the  pity."  Kilwinning  is  a  famous  archery 
town,  and  here  was  a  nearer  view  of  Eglinton  Castle. 
It  is  the  residence  of  the  Montgomeries,  Earls  of 
Eglinton,  and  I  wish  we  could  have  gone  to  it,  for 
the  sake  of  seeing  the  enormous  trees  for  which  it  is 
famous.  Twenty  years  ago  the  present  Earl,  then 
a  young  man,  held  a  tournament  with  all  suitable 
accompaniments,  in  the  true,  olden  style.  Do  not 
you  wish  we  had  been  there?  For  five  hundred 
years  the  Montgomeries  have  been  lords  of  the 
demesne. 

We  now  passed  through  Irvine,  chiefly  famous  for 
being  the  place  \\'here  Burns,  when  a  youth,  endeav- 
ored to  learn  to  be  a  flax-dresser,  his  only  attempt 
at  a  trade.  The  shop  in  which  he  was  established 
burnt  down  soon  after  he  began,  and  then  he  gave 
it  up.     All  his  pecuniary  efforts  failed. 


140  JS'OTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

We  next  dashed  into  Troon,  in  full  view  of  the 
Isle  of  Arran,  which  looked  very  near,  "  and  there- 
fore foreboded  rain,"  said  a  wight,  who  was  our 
compagnon  de  voyage  thus  far.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary to  say  it  "  foreboded"  rain,  for  it  already  rained, 
and  when  we  brought  up  at  Ayr,  it  still  rained,  and 
was  dreary  and  sloppy  and  cold.  We  had  to  wait 
at  the  station  interminably  for  a  fly,  and  in  the  wait- 
ing-rooms there  was  never  a  seat,  and  they  were 
very  dirty  and  Scofcchy.  But  the  fly  came  after  our 
patience  had  had  its  perfect  work,  and  now  we  are 
quite  nicely  accommodated  at  the  King's  Arms.  We 
have  a  large,  handsome  drawing-room,  polished 
footmen  and  butlers,  and  a  pleasant  though  wiry- 
faced  landlady. 

June  30th. — This  morning  I  looked  out  of  the 
window  in  the  broad  daylight  at  half-past  three ! 
and  was  thankful  to  see  the  streets  perfectly  dry.  I 
asked  for  no  more ;  for  this  would  do  without  sun- 
shine, though  the  sunshine  would  have  been  most 
welcome.  So,  soon  after  ten,  Ave  ordered  a  fly,  and 
drove  out  of  Ayr  to  the  cottage  in  which  Burns  was 
born.  It  is  the  lowest,  humblest  of  thatched  cotta- 
ges, consisting  of  but  two  rooms.  The  kitchen  re- 
mains exactly  as  it  was  originally,  with  its  floor  of 
smooth,  large  stones  laid  together,  its  small  recess 
containing  a  bed,  upon  which  the  baby  poet  first 
opened  his  eyes  to  the  light,  and  a  funny  old  fire- 
place.    The  room  is  extremely  small.     It  was  now 


BTIBNS'  REGION.  141 

however,  perfectly  cleau.  The  sitting-room  is  plas- 
tered and  floored  with  planks,  but  in  the  time  of 
Burns  was  uu ceiled,  and  had  a  clay  floor.  The 
walls  and  furniture  of  this  apartment  are  literally 
embroidered  with  names  of  visitors,  cut  with  knives. 
There  is  scarcely  an  inch  left  anywhere,  to  put  an- 
other name.  Really  it  hardly  seems  possible  to  live 
in  such  a  small  space  as  those  two  wee  rooms,  and 
when  I  said  so  to  the  old  woman,  who  showed  us 
about,  she  replied,  "  Och,  ma'am,  it  is  na  wi'  Scotch 
as  wi'  ither  folk."  The  cottage  has  been  built  upon 
for  an  inn,  and  she  took  us  along  a  corridor  to  a 
very  large  and  pretty  high  saloon,  which  I  think 
would  have  amazed  Burns.  There  were  other  rooms 
besides,  hung  round  with  prints  and  paintings — all 
of  the  poet,  or  of  scenes  in  his  poems.  The  auld 
mither  said  that  Burns  was  nine  years  old  Avhen  his 
father  removed  from  this  cottage  to  Mount  Oliphant. 
We  then  drove  to  the  Monument,  passing  by  Al- 
lowa}'  Kirk,  which  is  close  to  it.  We  alighted, 
and  tried  the  bell  at  the  gate  opening  upon  the 
monument ;  but  no  one  answered,  and  the  driver 
was  obliged  to  search  after  the  old  porter,  who  had 
gone  to  see  a  foundation-stone  laid.  The  auld 
mon  came,  after  weary  Avaiting  for  him,  and  let  us 
in;  but  said  he  must  return  and  see  "the  stane 
laid."  So  he  locked  us  up  and  went  away,  after  in- 
forming us  that  everj^  door  was  open  inside,  and  that 
we  could  look  by  ourselves.  The  enclosure  is  a 
garden,  entirely  filled  with  every  variety  of  flowers 


142  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

in  the  ricliest  profusion  and  fullest  bloom.  Koses — 
sweetbrier  and  all  kinds,  heliotrope,  rosemary,  and 
other  aromatic  plants,  among  evergreen  shrubs,  offer 
up  their  incense  to  the  memory  of  Burns,  whose 
bust  is  enclosed  in  a  Corinthian  temple,  raised  on  a 
high  stone  base,  in  the  midst  of  the  garden.  It  is 
surrounded  by  eight  columns,  and  surmounted  by 
the  Highland-bonnet.  Inside  stands  the  marble 
head,  and  a  glass  case,  containing  the  Bible  he  gave 
to  his  Highland  Mary,  and  a  lock  of  her  fair  hair. 
His  own  autograph  is  on  a  ily-leaf  of  the  Bible, 
They  stood  each  on  opposite  banks  of  the  little 
river,  holding  that  Bible  between  them,  and  prom- 
ised eternal  fidelity  ;  and  Burns  had  written  on  the 
fly-leaf  a  verse  from  it  about  not  swearing. falsely. 

We  went  up  on  the  roof,  and  there  my  longing 
eyes  at  last  rested  upon  "  the  banks  and  braes  o' 
bonnie  Doon."  And  I  saw  "  the  little  birds  that  wan- 
toned through  the  flowery  thorn  ;"  and  I  saw  the 
thorn,  and  heard  the  birds,  as  when  they  almost 
broke  the  heart  of  the  poet.  We  then  walked  along 
every  path,  bordered  thickly  with  flowers.  A  sun- 
dial, with  a  hedge  of  "  flowery  thorn,"  stands  before 
the  door  of  the  temple.  At  the  end  of  one  path,  we 
came  upon  a  deeply  sheltered  edifice  with  open  door, 
and  we  walked  in,  A\hen,  behold !  there  sat  Tam  o' 
Shanter  and  Souter  Johnnie,  forever  jolly  in  stone, 
each  holding  a  glass  of  ale — Tam  laughing  outright, 
and  old  Souter  Johnnie  with  a  happy,  silly  grin  on 
his  face.     This  group  was  cut  by  a  self-taught  artist 


BUBXS'  REGION'.  1*3 

by  tlie  name  of  Thorn,  and  tliese  identical  figures,  or 
exact  copies  of  them,  were  once  exhibited  in  Boston, 
America.  It  was  curions  to  leave  these  animated 
images  in  eternal  silence,  and  yet  laughing  so  loud, 
xind  if  Tarn  could  have  seen  with  his  stone  eyes,  he 
might  have  looked  upon  the  very  Brig  of  Doon  over 
which  he  rode  so  madly  on  that  memorable  night ; 
for  it  is  close  by  the  little  edifice  in  which  he  sits. 

When  the  old  porter  had  satisfied  his  curiosity 
about  the  foundation-stone,  he  returned  to  us,  and 
gave  me  a  sweetbrier-rose  and  some  rosemary — 

"  That's  for  remembrance — " 

and  two  damask-roses.  I  will  enclose  you  one,  be- 
cause it  smells  so  sweet.  I  have  sealed  up  the 
eglantine  and  rosemary. 

We  then  went  to  AUoway  Kirk,  which  is  now  a 
ruin.  The  two  gables  remain,  and  the  side-walls, 
but  there  is  no  roof.  It  is  very  small,  and  divided 
by  a  stone  partition  into  two  parts,  and  in  each  is  a 
tomb,  and  it  is  surrounded  by  a  graveyard.  Papa 
found  the  window  into  which  Tam  peeped,  and 
pulled  out  of  the  embrasure  a  little  stone,  as  big  as 
a  pea,  and  gave  it  to  me  for  a  relic. 

We  wandered  off  from  the  Kirk  to  cross  the  old 
and  new  Brigs  of  Doon.  The  old  is  much  the  most 
beautiful :  we  walked  quite  over  it,  and  returned  to 
our  fly  the  other  way.  "  The  banks  and  braes  o' 
bonnie  Doon"  are  pre-eminently  lovely.      The  river 


144  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

is  broad  in  many  parts,  and  tLe  trees  stretch  over 
and  dip  into  it,  and  it  flows  with  Hfe  and  joy,  as  if  it 
were  happy  in  its  poetic  fame  and  memories.  "We 
enjoyed  this  excursion  purelj^,  deliciously ;  for 
though  the  sun  did  not  shine,  there  was  beauty 
enough  without  it,  and  the  sweet  song,  and  pathetic 
ode,  and  -comic  tale,  all  blended  together  in  an  en- 
chanting effect  impossible  to  describe. 

"We  drove  back  to  the  hotel,  and  then  walked  out 
to  see  the  town.  I  wished  to  go  over  the  "  twa 
brigs  of  Ayr"  which  had  such  a  pleasant  chat  to- 
gether. We  first  crossed  the  new  one.  The  tide 
was  low,  and  the  river  did  not  look  pleasant ;  but  it 
was  one  of  the  memorable  "brigs,"  nevertheless, 
from  which  we  observed  it.  We  saw  an  old  kirk  up 
a  street,  but  upon  going  to  it,  found  there  was  no 
reason  for  investigating  the  inside,  and  we  pursued 
our  intention  of  returning  by  the  "  auld  brig."  It  is 
verj^  picturesque — covered  with  moss  and  lichens, 
and  raised  on  high  arches,  with  an  exceedingly  nar- 
row carriage-way.  A  throng  of  country  people  was 
selling  pigs  and  vegetables  at  one  end,  and  we 
crowded  through  both  piggies  and  folk.  There 
were  small  shops  part  way  over,  and  I  looked  into 
them  all  to  find  something  for  a  memory. 

I  observe  here  in  Ayr,  as  I  did  in  Mauchline,  that 
the  women  have  a  peculiar  way  of  carrjdng  about 
their  babies.  They  wear  a  long  shawl,  which  they 
v/rap  round  their  own  shoulders  and  the  child,  and 
the  result  is  that  they  look  like  a  full-blowu  flower 


BURNS'  REGION. 


145 


and  bud  on  the  same  stem.  You  see  no  arms,  but 
only  a  large  and  a  small  head  and  the  main  body.  I 
am  surprised  to  find  Ayr  so  large  and  fine  a  town. 
It  is  much  handsomer  than  the  lesser  towns  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  this  hotel,  the  King's  Arms,  is  uncom- 
monly good — of  the  first  class.  The  landlord,  when 
we  started  for  Alloway  Ivirk,  put  us  carefully  into 
the  carriage,  and  brought  one  of  his  own  plaids  to 
fold  about  us.  We  find  a  great  deal  of  this  genial 
kindness  in  Scotland,  and  I  think  the  charges  are 
not  so  exorbitant  as  at  English  hotels, 
Now  we  are  for  Glasgow. 


n. 

GLASGOW. 

June  30th,  1857. 
*  *  '*^  *  "  Dy  tlie  time  we  left  Ayr,  the  sun  glinted 
at  ns  a  little  out  of  tlie  clouds,  and  it  was  a  very 
pleasant  journey.  The  Firtli  of  Clyde  was  now  on 
our  left  hand,  and  the  Isle  of  Arran  lay  half  in  mist, 
like  some  huge  sea-horse,  upon  its  surface.  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  a  ruin  of  a  kirk  near  Prestwick,  and 
when  we  arrived  at  Monktown  we  had  a  fine  view  of 
Ailsa  Crag,  rising  a  thousand  feet  from  the  level  water, 
a  mighty  globular  mass.  At  Irvine  (Burns'  flax- 
dressing  town),  an  old  gentleman  got  into  our  car- 
riage. He  was  very  kind,  and  told  us  all  he  could 
about  the  country,  and  in  return  I  sketched  his  face. 
He  had  a  good  profile,  and  in  his  youth  may  have 
been  handsome ;  but  now  he  was  too  fat.  The 
Scotch  have  far  handsomer  noses  than  the  English. 
I  suspect  the  English  suffer  from  having  been  mixed 
up  with  Danes  and  Northmen  so  much,  and  all  North- 
men are  liable  to  have  potato  noses,  says  Miss  Bre- 
mer. I  suppose  the  Scotch  are  a  less  mongrel  race. 
Ijet  this  be  as  it  ma}',  their  noses  have  a  finer  line. 


GLASGOW.  14? 

Pcrliaps  some  Komans  who  strayed  up  Iiere  i*ectified 
tlieir  forms  with  their  own  classic  contours. 

As  we  passed  through  Kilwinning  again,  the  gude- 
man  lamented  over  Knox's  senseless  rage  against 
innocent  stone,  when  knocking  down  the  magnifi- 
cent abbey.  We  now  kept  crossing  the  river  Gar- 
nock.  Then  we  enter  Beitli,  and  skirt  along  by 
Kilburnie  Loch,  two  miles  long  and  half  a  mile 
broad,  with  pretty  banks  of  clustering  foliage ;  and 
on  it  is  Kilburnie  village,  with  its  small,  ancient 
kirk,  full  of  interesting  memorial  tablets  of  the  noble 
Crawford  family.  The  ruins  of  their  castle  are  at 
no  great  distance,  covered  with  ivy.  Soon  we  came 
to  Loch  Winnoch.  The  country  all  about  these 
lochs  is  rich  and  picturesque,  but  still  not  carpeted 
■\vdth  velvet  of  various  shades,  nor  winnowed  of 
every  unsightly  weed,  nor  bearing  marks  of  the  iin- 
tiring  hand  of  man,  polishing  and  garnishing  at 
every  point.  It  has  its  own  charm,  however,  though 
my  eyes  have  become  so  accustomed  to  England's 
perfection  of  culture,  that  I  do  not  quite  like  it,  and 
I  am  all  the  time  wishing  I  could  clear  up  the  land- 
scape and  make  it  nice. 

But  now  the  great  town  of  Paisley  comes  to  view, 
with  its  spires  and  towers  and  chimneys  of  manu- 
facture. It  is  the  shawd-town,  and  of  remote  anti- 
quity. It  has  ruins  of  an  abbey,  where  there  is  a 
sculptured  figure  of  King  Eobert  Bruce's  daughter. 
Her  husband,  Walter  Stuart,  founded  the  abbey.  ■  I 
wish  we  could  have  visited  it ;   but  I  should  have 


14S  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

preferred  even  to  this  a  visit  to  Ellerslie  House,  upon 
the  hands  of  whicli  William  Wallace  was  born.  But 
all  wishes  were  vain,  for  on  we  went  to  Glasgow, 
and  drove  to  George's  Square,  George  Hotel.  At 
the  station  we  were  recommended  to  several  hotels, 
and  wlien  I  asked  our  old  cabman  whether  tlie 
George  was  good,  he  replied  with  the  broadest 
accent : 

"  They're  a-a-a-a-a-11  gude,"  in  the  most  Scotch 
and  patriotic  manner. 

Immediate!}"  after  arranging  ourselves,  we  went 
out  for  sight-seeing,  and  turned  into  George  Street. 
It  is  very  long,  and  crossed  first  by  Montrose  Street 
and  then  by  High  Street.  This  is  the  ancient  part 
of  Glasgow,  and,  going  to  the  end  of  it,  we  found 
the  famous  Cathedral.  At  the  gate,  just  inside,  is  a 
small  lodge,  where  tickets  are  sold  for  sixpence,  and 
no  other  fee  is  allowed.  This  is  a  convenient  ar- 
rangement, for  it  relieves  visitors  of  the  care  and 
demands  of  vergers.  The  building  is  not  of  the 
largest  size  for  a  minster,  but  it  is  of  fine  and  state- 
ly proportions.  There  is  no  peaceful  and  heavenly 
Close  around  it,  but  a  graveyard  ;  and  higli  above 
and  beyond  its  eastern  end  is  the  Necropolis,  covered 
with  obelisks  and  little  temples  and  columns  and 
sarcophagi. 

We  entered  the  Cathedral  by  the  southern  porch, 
as  the  door  was  open,  and  were  directly  under  the 
spell  of  the  arches  and  clustered  pillars  and  groined 
ceilings  of  the  nave.     The  choir  and  chancel  were 


GLASGOW.  14fe 

filled  Avitli  pews,  kirk-fasliion,  all  the  (doubtless) 
beautiful  stalls  and  tabernacle-work  having  been 
cleared  awaj  as  rubbish  by  the  Eeformers.  The 
pews  were  of  oak,  and  where  the  high  altar  once 
stood  stands  now  the  pulpit — no  bishop's  throne  nor 
canon's  desk  being  left.  But  the  rich  upper  border 
of  the  former  screen  remains,  exceedingly  splendid. 
The  Chapter-house  is  at  the  side  of  the  Lady- 
chapel,  and  its  stone  roof  is  supported  by  one  of 
those  grand  fountain-columns  which  I  have  before 
described  to  you. 

But  we  concluded  to  go  down  into  the  crypts  be- 
fore we  looked  any  more  at  the  upper  regions.  I 
was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  wonderful  and  solemn 
grandeur  of  these  crypts.  Walter  Scott  speaks  of 
them  in  "  Rob  Roy,"  and  Rob  Roy  himself  was  con- 
cealed behind  one  of  the  massive  pillars  on  a  special- 
occasion.  How  can  I  make  you  see  with  me  these 
majestic  sepulchres  for  the  dead  ?  There  is  nothing 
like  them  in  the  kingdom,  and  the  verger  (who 
cropped  up  in  the  Chapter-house),  said  that  he  be- 
lieved there  were  none  equal  to  them  in  Europe. 
The  ground  upon  which  the  cathedral  is  built  sud- 
denly descends  toward  the  east,  and  the  glorious 
architects  of  those  early  days,  instead  of  filling  up 
the  cavity  with  earth  or  other  supports  to  the  floor, 
conceived  the  idea  of  building  these  aisles,  of  the 
same  superb  style  as  those  above,  for  the  burial  of 
saints  and  prelates.  Beneath  every  column  in  the 
upper  stands  one  in  the  under  structure ;  but  besides 


150  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

these,  there  are  many  more  beneath  those  above,  of 
every  variety  of  shape  and  capitaL  There  are  three 
separate  crypts.  The  largest,  which  is  beneath  the 
choir  and  chancel,  is  St.  Joceline's,  and  his  stone 
effigy  lies  in  state  in  a  shrine  in  the  centre,  of  which 
the  four  columns  have  rich  foliaged  capitals.  But 
the  figure  has  been  mutilated,-  and  the  lions  broken. 
This  shrine  is  the  central  object,  Avith  its  four  clus- 
tered shafts  reaching  to  the  ceiling. 

Under  the  Lady-chapel  the  ground  descends  five 
feet  lower,  and  therefore  the  piers  are  twenty  feet 
high.  And  this  ordered  wilderness  of  stems  bear 
up  a  marvellous  intricacy  of  branches,  which  hold,  as 
it  Vv'ere,  in  a  thousand-in-one-united  chalice,  the 
gorgeous  Victoria  Eegia  of  a  cathedral.  At  every 
crossing  of  the  groinings  is  a  sculptured  rose,  or 
boss,  and  under  the  chancel  fifteen  at  least  meet  in 
one  great  rose.  Beneath  the  Lady-chapel  are  several 
small  chapels  of  perfect  beauty,  each  one  contain- 
ing the  monument  of  some  illustrious  person.  But 
in  all  these  spaces  the  destructive  Eeformers  have 
not  left  one  single  tomb,  except  that  of  St.  Joceline. 
Tliey  cleared  the  crypt,  and  made  it  the  place  of 
worship  of  some  parish  until  as  late  as  1803.  It 
was  called  the  Barony  Parish  ;  but  after  they  ceased 
to  worship  there,  they  filled  it  with  earth  !  and  used 
it  to  inter  their  dead,  and  daubed  the  columns  with 
black  and  white  devices.  Five  years  ago  all  these 
defilements  were  removed,  and  the  soot  and  paint 
scraped  off,  and  every  part  repaired  and  thoroughly 


GLASGOW.  151 

cleansed,  so  now  it  is  just  as  when  first  made.  It 
is  delightful  to  see  with  what  loving,  faithful  care 
each  worn  and  broken  stone  has  been  replaced. 
There  are  some  trefoiled  pointed  windows  at  the 
sides  of  one  of  the  chapels  which  made  me  nearly 
distraught  for  want  of  power  to  exj)ress  their  en- 
chanting grace  ;  and  the  door  that  leads  into  Bishop 
Lander's  Cr3^pt  is  also  confounding  to  poor  limited 
mortals.  It  is  a  pointed  arch,  or  rather  a  hundred 
arches,  one  within  another.  These  grooves  make 
the  depth  of  the  doorway,  and  there  is  one  broad 
groove  intricately  and  most  richly  carved.  Upon 
examining  it,  I  found  that  on  one  side  saints,  monks, 
and  devils  are  •■  sculptured,  and  on  the  other  birds 
and  animals.  The  arch  runs  up  in  saints  and  fiends, 
and  runs  down  in  beasts  and  reptiles.  One  old 
monk  sits  reading  in  ineffable  repose,  as  if  he  had 
read  undisturbedly  from  a  past  eternity,  and  pur- 
posed to  read  on  to  a  future  without  end.  Just 
above  him  is  a  saint  in  ecstasy,  and  at  the  lowest 
point  sits  an  imp,  or  Auld  Nickie  Ben  himself,  pre- 
tending to  be  devout.  At  the  end,  on  the  other 
side,  a  reptile  is  wriggling  out  of  the  stone  as  fast 
as  possible,  as  if  he  were  going  to  scamjDer  away 
with  the  whole  string-course  of  figures,  saints, 
devils,  and  all.  The  old  painted  glass  is  nearly 
gone  ;  but  one  window  in  St.  Joceline's  crypt  has 
been  restored,  and  all  is  to  be  replaced  in  course 
of  time.  I  was  half  frozen  in  the  abysses  at  last, 
and  obliged  to  go  up-stairs.     Grand,  broad  stair- 


153  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

waj^s  led  to  the  nave.  But  on  the  way  to  the  uppei 
regions,  I  found  still  another  crypt  at  the  south, — 
Bishop  Blackader's — oh,  so  stately  and  beautiful! 
Directly  down  the  centre  is  a  row  of  glorious  clus- 
tered columns,  with  foliated  capitals.  It  is  fifty- 
nine  feet  long  and  thirty  feet  broad,  and  has  a 
great  deal  of  delicate  sculpture.  Papa  confessed 
himself  too  cold  to  remain  "  in  profundis "  any 
longer,  and  so  we  went  on  to  the  nave.  There  sat 
the  verger.  I  asked  him  where  the  organ  was,  and 
he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  we  have  no  kist  of  whistles 
here !"  and  then  he  laughed,  and  turned  himself 
upside  down  in  a  great  spasm.  When  he  recovered 
his  equilibrium,  he  began  to  tell  me  the  Scottish 
Kirk's  manner  of  singing — "  mental  music,"  he 
called  it,  but  I  assured  him  I  knew  all  about  it,  for  I 
had  heard  it  at  Mauchline,  and  liked  it  exceedingly. 
He  thought  it  must  be  very  coarse  at  such  a  wee 
place  as  Mauchline,  but  if  I  should  hear  it  in  the 
cathedral,  where  there  were  trained  singers,  who 
liad  the  finest  voices,  I  should  then  find  that  there 
was  no  organ  music  and  no  chanting  like  it.  I  de- 
fended the  Mauchline  people,  and  urged  that  they 
could  have  as  sweet  voices  and  as  much  devotion  as 
Glasgow  orchestras,  and  that  I  found  it  very  inspi- 
ring. Oh,  but,  he  said,  the  s2oaces,  the  arches  give 
such  a  fine  effect !  "  The  small-eyed  verger  seemed 
to  have  a  misgiving  that  I  was  making  fun  of  his 
"  mental  music,"  but  I  insisted  that  I  was  sincere, 
and  that  I  was  also  a  dissenter,  and  could  sympa- 


GLASGOW.  153 

tliize  M'itli  bis  repugnance  to  empty  forms.  Aftel 
laughing  a  great  deal,  and  doubling  himself  up  in  and 
kicking  out  in  his  indescribable  manner,  he  gave 
over  about  the  music,  and  called  my  attention  to  one 
of  the  groups  on  the  screen — a  bonnie  Scotch  girl 
talking  with  an  old  monk — which  still  keeps  its  sharp 
lines  and  is  full  of  life  and  good  expression.  A  gro- 
tesque figure  at  the  corner  sent  him  off  into  a  new  fit, 
and  then  he  delivered  a  learned  discourse  about  the 
top  of  the  screen,  and  how  feebly  it  had  been  imi- 
tated on  the  sides  by  modern  artists.     *     ""    *    *    * 

After  bidding  adien  to  the  cathedral,  we  looked 
over  the  graveyard  and  at  the  sky-high  Necropolis, 
and  then  went  to  see  the  University.  It  has  five 
courts  or  quadrangles,  and  the  part  of  the  building 
on  the  High  Street  is  long  and  low,  of  antique  ap- 
pearance. We  merely  walked  through  the  courts, 
and  did  not  then  go  inside.  The  Molindinar  burn 
flows  behind.  It  was  a  college,  founded  in  1450  by  a 
bull  of  Pope  Mcolas  Y,  We  admired  a  fine  old 
stone  staircase,  with  a  sculptured  lion  on  one 
pedestal  and  a  unicorn  upon  the  other.  We  did  not 
go  anywhere  else,  except  to  the  post-ofiice  for  your 
letter. 

In  the  centre  of  this  beautiful  George's  Square  is  a 
garden,  enclosed,  as  you  often  see  in  English  and 
Scotch  cities  ;  and  in  the  centre  of  the  garden  is  a 
lofty  column,  eighty  feet  high,  upon  which  stands  a 
statue  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  It  looks  very  like  him, 
even  so  far  off  as  it  is.     Other  statues  are  at  the 


154  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAJS'U. 

four  corners.  One  is  of  Sir  Jolm  Moore,  by  Flax- 
man,  and  one  is  of  James  Watt. 

Tiiis  morning  we  went  out  to  find,  if  possible,  tlie 
old  Tolbootli  (Scotch  for  prison),  made  famous  by 
Walter  Scott.  We  walked  along  Buclianaii  and 
Argyle  Streets,  and  I  think  Glasgow  a  very  splendid 
citj^  very  far  superior  to  Liverpool  in  every  respect. 
The  streets  are  broad,  and  the  houses  stately,  and 
the  shops  superb.  Loudon  hardly  surpasses  them, 
and  a  few  are  handsomer  than  smj  London  shops. 
We  went  down  the  salt-market  for  the  sake  of  Baillie 
Nicol  Jarvie,  who  lived  there,  and  I  think  I  saw  his 
house;  for  I  saw  a  very  ancient  and  funny  one. 
Along  this  and  High  Street  were  throngs  of  dirty 
people,  so  thick  that  it  was  not  agreeable  to  crowd 
past  them.  We  persevered  to  the  end,  however,  and 
came  out  upon  the  Glasgow  Green,  which  is  a 
hundred  acres  large.  An  obelisk  to  Nelson  is 
erected  there,  and  it  was  the  first  monument  erected 
to  him  in  this  country.  Fairs  are  held  upon  it,  and 
we  saw  a  movable  theatre  and  an  exhibition  of  wax- 
works. We  stood  on  a  bridge  a  little  bej^ond  th:^ 
Green,  and  looked  down  into  the  Eiver  Clyde,  and  I 
made  inquiries  about  the  old  Tolbootli  of  a  man 
who  seemed  friendly.  He  assured  me  that  it  was 
close  by,  and  pointed  to  a  grand,  stone,  new  building 
facing  the  Green.  But  we  knew  better  than  that  it 
could  be  the  old  jail. 

We  then  returned  through  the  noisome  salt-mar- 
ket, and  crossed  Trongate,  where  Sir  John  Moora 


GLASGOW.  15£ 

was  born,  and  went  into  an  arcliway  beneatli  a  higli 
tower  that  seemed  of  the  olden  time,  a  hundred 
and  twenty-six  feet  high,  surmounted  by  a  crown. 
Adjoining  it  is  now  a  new  building.  We  asked 
several  policemen  about  it,  and  also  the  place 
where  was  the  old  historic  Tolbooth  ;  but  no  one  knew 
anything.  So  I  went  into  a  shop  near  this  cross  (as 
the  tower  is  called),  and  bought  a  little  Falkirk 
mosaic  quaigh,  and  afterward  we  proceeded  to  the 
college.  At  the  High-street  entrance  we  found 
three  people,  one  of  them  looking  like  an  official — 
an  old  man — and  I  was  sure  he  could  tell  us  about 
the  Tolbooth.  And  so  he  could  and  did.  The  old 
Tolbooth,  he  said,  was  no  more,  and  on  its  site  had 
been  built  a  new  town-house ;  but  that  the  ancient 
cross  still  remained,  at  the  corner  of  the  Trongate, 
and,  behold!  we  had  been  standing  beneath  it;  for 
it  was  the  very  one,  surmounted  by  a  crown,  close  by 
which  I  had  bought  my  inlaid  tub,  and  therefore 
we  had  already  effected  all  that  was  possible  con- 
cerning the  memorable  old  prison. 


III. 

DUMBAETON. 

July  1st,  1857. 

It  is  qnarter-past  sis,  aucl  v.-e  liave  just  arrived 
here  from  Glasgow  by  a  steamer  that  passes  up  and 
down  the  Eiver  Clyde.  We  are  in  "  The  Elephant," 
an  unexpectedly  nice  hotel,  considering  what  a  small 
town  is  Dumbarton.  Our  butler  is  a  venerable  man 
with  white  hair ;  our  maid  is  enthusiastic  and  oblig- 
ing, and  our  landlady  drops  a  courtesy  at  every  turn, 
and  is  polite.  I  sit  at  a  window  that  looks  up  a 
street  of  shops  and  people,  terminating  in  a  kirk. 

The  first  part  of  our  course  on  the  river  was  not 
interesting ;  but  when  we  came  to  the  country,  with 
its  trees  and  hills  and  meadows,  it  was  refreshing 
indeed,  and  in  an  hour  the  Highlands  began  to  show 
themselves  in  blue  mist.  The  weather  has  been  as 
superb  as  weather  could  possibly  be,  not  too  warm, 
and  with  a  reviving  air.  In  the  boat  we  had  Souter 
Johnnie  and  Tam  O'Shanter,  and  they  enjoyed  each 
other  prodigiously.  Johnnie  was  mighty  in  girth 
and  profuse  in  chin — or  chins,  for  he  had  a  dozen  of 
them  ;  and  Tam  was  bony  and  wiry,  with  a  great 


BUMBABTOK  157 

tendency  to  excitement.  Sncli  good  portraits  I  have 
seldom  seen.  Johnnie  was  sitting  near  me,  with  a 
good-natured  lack-lustre  in  his  fat  face,  when  the 
tall  form  of  his  beloved  compeer  loomed  ujd  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  Tarn  gave  a  friendly  nod,  and  sat 
down  opposite  to  us.  Johnnie  wriggled  in  his  place  for 
a  few  minutes,  endeavoring  to  remain  where  he  was  ; 
but  Tarn's  magnetism  proved  too  overwhelming,  and 
so  he  got  up,  and  squeezed  his  enormous  rotundity 
into  what  seemed  no  space  at  all  between  his  friend 
and  another  man.  This  other  man  was  about  being 
vexed,  but  meeting  the  jolly,  kind  glance  of  Johnnie, 
he  made  room  for  him  directly,  and  Tam's  wit  imme- 
diately began  to  shake  the  mountain  of  materiality 
at  his  side  into  earthquakes.  They  talked  with 
broad,  Scotch  accent,  and,  upon  the  whole,  I  have  a 
suspicion  that  I  saw  the  very  originals  of  Burns' 
poem. 

Presently  the  river  Clyde  came  to  have  rural 
banks,  green  meadows,  and  villas  in  shaded  wood- 
lands ;  and  strange-looking  structures  rose  up  upon 
every  turn  of  the  stream  and  every  inequality  of  the 
shore.  Thej  were  of  great  variety  of  form,  and  built 
of  various  substances — some  of  brick,  some  of  stone, 
some  of  clay  and  earth,  and  some  of  coal-dust ;  and 
each  one  was  surmounted  with  a  cross,  reel,  black,  or 
white.  They  were  warnings  or  beacons  for  steamers 
and  row-boats  that  go  up  and  down,  to  show  where 
rocks  and  sand-banks  are.  From  the  fanciful  shapes, 
one  might  suppose  that  the  old  Gothic  dreamers  had 


158  S0TE8  IN  SCOTLAND. 

been  at  work  with  tlieir  love  of  cliange  ;  but  they 
are  modern,  and  the  spirit  of  picturesqueness  has 
descended  from  aforetime  to  the  present  generation. 

During  the  last  hour  of  our  river  journey,  grand 
old  Ben  Lomond  made  the  distance  illustrious  with 
giant  head  and  shoulders,  like  Michel  Angelo's  Day, 
and  like  it,  without  distinct  features, — the  veiled 
prophet  of  this  northern  land.  To-day  his  veil  was 
blue  tissue.  Nearer  at  hand  were  the  Eoman  fort- 
ress of  Dunglass,  and  a  bold  headland  called  Dum- 
beck  (hill  of  roes) ;  and  then  came  the  twin  crags 
upon  which  Dumbarton  Castle  is  built,  very  abrupt 
and  sheer  from  the  river  and  plain,  and  from  some 
points  of  view  very  sharp.  We  soon  w^ere  safe  in 
the  bay,"  and  a  stout  porter  took  the  portmanteau 
in  his  hand  and  the  trunk  on  his  back,  and,  as  there 
were  no  cabs,  we  followed  him  afoot  to  this  only 
good  hotel,  close  by  the  landing. 

Eve. — We  have  climbed  Dumbarton's  craggy 
heights,  and  it  was  no  small  labor,  for  they  are 
almost  perpendicular,  five  hundred  feet  into  the  air, 
— reached  partly  by  convenient  natural  inequalities 
in  the  rocks,  and  partly  by  stone  stairs  cut  where  it 
is  steepest,  and  where  the  twins  have  a  chasm  be- 
tween. We  found  a  very  intelligent,  gentlemanly 
soldier  of  the  garrison  at  the  gate,  who  pioneered 
us  about.  I  thought  at  fii'st  that  I  would  not  go  to 
the  very  summit,  but  I  was  tempted  higher  and 
higher,  till  I  stood  on  the  topmost  peak.  The  cap- 
tain of  the  steamer  had  pointed  out  to  me  from  the 


DUMBABTON.  159 

boat  tlie  creyice  in  tlie  cliff  up  wliicli  Wallace  climbed 
and  killed  the  sentinel  at  tlie  stone  wall  built  on  its 
verge.  The  soldier  said  there  were  two  places  up 
Avhicli  he  struggled,  and  at  that  time  (in  the  13th 
century)  it  was  a  daring  and  perilous  feat.  The 
soldier  was,  however,  mistaken  in  thinking  that 
Mar}^  Queen  of  Scots,  was  ever  a  prisoner  here. 
He  showed  us  the  outside  of  what  he  believed  her 
cell,  at  the  same  time  saying  that  it  was  one  of 
several  very  nice  apartments,  the  best  in  the  castle  ; 
but  that  now  they  were  all  shut  up,  and  we  could 
not  go  in. 

The  truth  is,  that  Mary  w^as  Ihere  in  the  early 
part  of  her  life,  until  she  was  six  years  old,  and  that 
then  she  went  to  France ;  and  that,  though  after  her 
return  to  Scotland  she  intended  to  visit  Dumbarton, 
she  never  was  in  the  castle  again.  But  the  noble 
Wallace  was  prisoner  in  it,  betrayed  by  the  base  Sir 
John  Menteith,  who  invited  him  as  a  friend  to  go 
there,  and  then  thrust  him-  into  a  dungeon,  for  the 
sake  of  a  share  in  the  three  hundred  merks  [a  merk 
is  worth  $3.22]  which  King  Edward  had  set  as  a 
price  upon  his  head.  This  mean,  paltry  knight  is 
made  forever  hideous  and  absurd  in  stone,  as  a 
corbel,  on  the  outer  wall  of  one  of  the  tow^ers.  Sir 
John  was  then  governor  of  the  castle.  When  Ed- 
ward heard  that  Wallace  was  secured,  he  sent  for 
him,  and  crowds  followed  him  to  London,  where 
there  was  such  deep  s^-mpathy  expressed  that  the 
king  did  not  venture  to  put  him  in  the  Tower.     He 


160  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

therefore  went  to  a  private  house,  Avlience  lie  was 
taken  and  tried,  and  then  hanged  ignominiouslj, 
being  first  treated  with  frightful  cruelty.  This  hap- 
pened in  1305.  On  the  summit  of  the  rock  we  saw 
the  foundations  of  a  very  old  round  tower  of  the 
early  British  period ;  but  the  wind  blew  such  a  hur- 
ricane that  I  had  much  ado  to  keep  myself  steady 
and  entire,  and  I  could  not  examine  it  much. 

We  walked  round  the  battlements.  The  view  was 
very  beautiful.  The  atmosphere  was  like  diamonds 
and  pale  topaz  ;  for  it  was  near  sunset,  and  the  sol- 
dier said  he  had  never  seen  the  Highlands  so  clearly 
defined — Ben  Lomond  especially — as  then.  On  the 
other  side,  the  river  Clyde,  broad  and  winding,  with 
its  green  meadows  and  wooded  shores — the  villas — 
the  bold  headland  Dumbeck  and  the  castle  Dun- 
glass — all  combined  to  make  a  stately  and  lovely  pic- 
ture. Nothing  remains  of  the  ancient  castle  but  one 
old  bit  of  wall,  entirely  overhung  with  ivy,  and 
doubtless  upheld  by  it  also.  That  was  the  part 
used  as  a  dwelling,  and  called  a  palace  when  kings 
lived  in  it.  There  were  sentry-boxes,  like  little 
towers,    at    the    corners    of    the   battlements,    and 

J got  into  one,  and  then  papa  took  his  stand. 

I  wondered  why — but  no  longer,  after  papa  told  me 
that  his  beloved  Dr.  Johnson  once  took  a  fancy  to 
thrust  his  large  person  through  the  door,  and  then 
found  if  nearly  impossible  to  get  out  again !  Would 
not  it  have  been  very  funny  if  it  had  been  neces- 
sary to  demolish  the  tower  for  the  sake  of  deliver- 


DUMBARTON.  IGl 

ing  the  big  pliilosoplier  from  liis  volnntaiy  confine- 
ment ?  After  seeing  everything  on  tlie  tip-top  of 
the  highest  twin,  we  went  to  the  lower,  where  the 
governor's  house  and  officers'  rooms  are,  and  an  ar- 
mory. There  were  once  fifteen  hundred  stands  of 
arms  there,  which  now  are  in  the  Tower  of  London. 
The  officer  gave  us  in  charge  to  a  httle  girl  at  the 
armory.  She,  with  her  key,  came  out  of  a  door 
near  by,  and  took  us  into  a  grim  old  place,  where 
we  saAv  only  some  pistols  arranged  in  stars  in  that 
perfect  order  always  enjoined  in  military  affairs. 
But  though  the  guns  and  muskets  are  all  taken 
away,  they  have  what  is  much  more  interesting  and 
valuable — the  sword  of  William  "Wallace.  I  took  it 
in  my  hand,  and  it  was  pretty  heavy.  The  point  is 
broken  off  and  it  is  very  rusty  and  black.  For  five 
hundred  and  fifty-two  years  it  has  been  rusting 
there,  ever  since  it  was  treacherously  taken  from 
Wallace.  *  *  ""  The  girl  also  showed  us  many 
weapons  that  had  been  picked  up  on  the  field  of 
Bannockburn,  at  which  we  looked  with  great  inter- 
est. I  thought  this  armory  a  gloomy^,  sad  place, 
and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  observe  in  the  win- 
dows pots  of  blooming  roses !  I  told  the  girl  she 
must  give  me  one  of  the  roses,  which  I  wondered  at 
for  blooming  in  such  a  dark,  dull  old  room  ;  and  she 
smiled  and  broke  off  the  best  and  gave  it  me  ;  but 
I  had  hardly  stepped  outside  the  door  with  it  before 
its  petals  dropped  off,  every  one.  Its  life  was  weak 
in  that  imprisonment,  and  it  died  at  a  touch  of  fresh 


162  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

air.  It  made  me  tliink  of  many  a  delicate,  tender 
prisoner  that  had  become  pale  and  faint  on  a  sud- 
den exposure  to  the  sun's  rays. 

Then  we  met  again  the  soldier,  and  he  guided  us 
down  the  steep  stone  stairs  in  the  very  narrow 
gorge — down,  down,  down — oh,  me  !  what  a  de- 
scent !  But  finally  it  was  accomplished,  and  we  came 
out  into  the  lower  courts.  In  one  of  these  courts, 
cannon-balls  of  various  sizes  were  laid  in  geometri- 
cal forms  of  great  beauty.  But  as  I  looked  out 
from  the  castle-gate  upon  the  lovely,  peaceful  sun- 
set scene,  war  seemed  a  myth  and  a  phantom,  and 
as  if  it  had  never  been,  and  could  never  be — a  fact. 
Earth,  river,  and  sky,  wrapped  then  in  a  glow  of  pale 
gold  and  purple,  seemed  echoing  and  emphasiziug 
the  simple,  effectual  law  of  Christ,  scarcely  heard 
jei  by  the  world,  but  which  if  obeyed  v/ould  make 
a  heaven  of  this  planet,  and  angels  of  men. 

July  2d. — At  two  o'clock  we  leave  Dumbarton  for 
Loch  Lomond.  We  still  have  splendid  weather.  I 
must  tell  you,  as  history,  that  we  have  found  the 
people  of  this  hotel  quite  literary  and  refined  in 
comparison  with  English  landlords  and  landladies. 
When  we  ask  for  a  book  here,  we  can  get  it,  but  ex- 
cept at  Skipton,  we  never  have  been  so  fortunate  in 
England.  This  class  of  people  are  doubtless  better 
educated  hei  e  than  there. 


IV. 
LOCH  LOMOND  AND  THE  BENS. 

Invekannan,  Glenfalloch,  July  2d. 

We  liave  just  arrived  at  tlie  liead  of  Locli  Lomond, 
and  farther  still  into  tlie  depths  of  the  Highlands, 
into  Bob  Roy's  country,  and  scenes  made  classic 
by  "Walter  Scott  and  Wordsworth.  We  thought  we 
would  come  to  the  very  end  of  the  steamer's  course, 
and  therefore  kept  on  to  Inverannan,  in  Glenfalloch. 
The  hotel  is  situated  in  a  valley,  which  is  a  plain 
between  lofty  ranges  of  mountains — Ben  Oss  and 
Ben  Douchray,  Ben  Crosh  and  Ben  Eim,  Ben  Yain 
and  Ben  Yoirlich,  and  above  all,  Ben  Lomond. 
They  have  a  bare,  sterile  aspect,  but  a  grand  out- 
line and  elevation.  The  air  here  is  nectar.  We 
have  been  obliged  to  walk  two  miles  from  the  land- 
ing to  the  hotel ;  but  the  road  was  good  and  per- 
fectly level,  so  that  I  held  out  bravely.  There  was 
no  carriage  to  be  found.  Part  of  the  way  was  lovely 
with  thickets  and  roses,  and  how  I  wish  I  could  en- 
close you  an  exquisite  wild-rose  which  I  plucked  in 
passing,  for  it  has  the  wonderful  odor  of  the  tea-rose. 


164  HOTES  Z.V  SCOTLAND. 

Evening — but  not  dusk  hj  any  means. — We  left 
Dumbarton  at  noon,  and  came  by  rail  to  Ballocli,  and 
then  took  the  steamer  for  Loch  Lomond.  In  the 
railroad  carriage,  we  skirted  along  the  vallej''  of 
the  Leven,  beautifully  verdant,  and  saw  constantly 
beyond  the  majestic  Ben  Lomond,  towering  grandly 
over  all.  After  entering  Kenton,  Smollett's  monu- 
ment is  seen  on  the  right.  He  was  born  close  by 
that  spot,  and  wrote  pretty  poetry  about  the  river 
Leven,  which  winds  along  the  valley. 

"On  Leven's  banks  wlien  fi'ee  to  rove, 
And  tune  tlie  rural  pipe  to  love,"  &c. 

At  Balloch — no,  we  first  passed  through  Alexan- 
dria and  Bonhill,  and  then  Balloch,  and  there  I  was 
delighted  with  a  very  graceful  suspension  bridge 
over  the  "  soft  river  "  (the  meaning  of  Leven).  It 
Avas  built  by  Sir  John  Colquhoun,  of  Luss.  At  Bal- 
loch we  embarked  and  were  afloat  on  Loch  Lomond, 
queen  of  Scottish  lakes,  thirty-two  miles  long.  Cas- 
tles and  stately  mansions,  many  of  thein  full  of  his- 
torical and  poetical  interest,  rose  up  on  every  side. 
Cameron  House,  where  Alexander  Smollett,  a  de- 
scendant of  the  novelist,  resides,  and  Arden,  in  which 
is  the  original  portrait  of  Rob  Boy.  I  wisli  I  could 
have  seen  the  old  feudal  fortress  of  Bannachra, 
where  the  Colquhouns  lived,  with  whom  the  Mac- 
gregors  had  deadly  strife  and  won  the  victory,  and 
slew  two  hundred  Colquhouns.     Now  a  large  island 


Loan  LOMOND  AND   THE  BENS.  1G5 

seemed  nearly  to  cross  the  lake.  It  was  beautifully 
green,  of  a  bright  sunny  green,  and  contrasted  won- 
derfully with  the  dark  mountains  above  and  beyond. 
Its  name  is  Inch  Murrain  (Inch  means  island).  It  is 
the  deer-park  of  the  Duke  of  Montrose.  On  one 
end  are  the  ruins  of  a  castle  of  the  Earls  of  Lenox. 
Near  by,  on  the  mainland,  is  a  mansion  where 
Walter  Scott  often  visited.  It  is  Eoss  Priorj^,  the 
residence  of  Lady  Leith  Buchanan.  In  that  house 
Sir  Walter  wrote  the  romance  of  Eob  Eo}- !  Then 
comes  a  sharply-pointed  hill,  call  Duucruin— hill  of 
witches — famous  in  legends  ;  and  Balmaha,  the  fa- 
mous pass  mentioned  in  the  "  Jjudj  of  the  Lake,"  is 
a  little  way  inland — 

"  So  fierce,  so  tameless,  and  so  fleet, 
Sore  did  lie  cumber  our  retreat, 
And  kept  our  sternest  kerus  in  awe 
Even  at  the  pass  of  Balmaha — " 

Another  lovely  island  now  comes  in  sight  round  a 
curve,  called  Inch  Cailliach  (Isle  of  Women),  where 
was  once  a  nunnery,  and  where  very  ancient  graves 
of  chiefs  are  found.  Five  or  six  more  Inches  v.-e 
pass,  and  so  you  see  how  studded  with  isles  Loch 
Lomond  is — all  so  lovely  with  copses  and  rocks,  and 
each  famous  for  something.  And  as  we  wound 
about  them,  the  lordly  ranges  of  mountains  kept 
changing  their  relations  to  one  another,  as  well  as 
their  lights  and  shadows, — rising  also  one  bej^ond 
another,  like    an   ever-heaving,  mighty  sea,  rolling 


166  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

sky-higli,  firmly  fixed,  jet  seeming  in  constant  mo- 
tion. I  quite  agree  witli  Riiskin  about  mountain 
scenery ;  like  Gothic  architecture  it  has  the  effect 
of  aspiration,  struggling  upward. 

Now  we  drew  into  the  bay  of  Luss,  where  some  of 
our  passengers  landed,  and  after  resuming  our  way 
onward,  we  soon  had  on  our  right  Robert  de  Bruce's 
Isle  of  Tews — Inch  Lonarg — upon  which  he  planted 
yews  for  making  bows.  There  is  now  a  growth  of 
yews  upon  it,  dark  and  thick,  children  of  those 
planted  half  a  thousand  years  ago  by  the  illustrious 
de  Bruce.  Perhaps  there  are  some  grand  old  stumps 
left  of  the  identical  trees  of  that  time,  and  I  wished 
to  stop  and  explore.  But  inexorably  we  steamed 
on,  without  the  smallest  regard  to  poetical  longings, 
and  had  a  glimpse  of  Glen  Douglas.  Douglas  !  what 
a  name !  and  I  really  saw  what  once  belonged  to 
them  !  The  river  Glass  flows  into  the  lake  from  this 
glen,  and  Ben  Glass  toAvers  over  it.  Immediately 
above  Bowardennan,  the  next  pier,  the  king  of  Bens, 
Ben  Lomond  himself,  climbs  to  the  stars  in  three 
vast  waves,  the  midmost  the  highest,  three  thousand 
two  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake.  All 
who  wished  to  ascend  upon  the  monarch's  shoulders 
and  stand  upon  his  head,  left  us  here,  where  there 
are  ponies  and  guides.  From  his  head  can  be  seen 
Stirling  and  Edinburgh  Castles,  Goat  Fell  in  the 
Isle  of  Arran,  the  passes  of  Jura  and  Ailsa  Crag. 
There  are  a  great  many  shooting-lodges  now  upon 
the  sides  of  the  hills,  belonging  to  Scotch  and  Eug- 


LOCH  LOMOND  AND  THE  BENS.  1G7 

lish  gentlemen.  Just  beyond  Eowardennan  a  pro- 
montory juts  out  called  Forken,  and  on  its  top  is  a 
little  lake,  used  long  ago  b}'  the  Fairies  to  dye  the 
wools  of  the  country  people  in.  The  trustful  people 
deposited  their  wools  on  the  shores  of  the  fairy  lake 
at  evening,  and  in  the  morning  when  tliey  came  for 
them  they  were  all  ready,  and  of  exactly  the  colors 
they  wished ;  but  at  last,  a  foolish,  faithless  Avight, 
as  a  practical  joke,  placed  a  budget  of  black  wool 
and  a  bit  of  white  alongside  for  a  pattern.  This  so 
offended  the  small  folk,  that  they  threw  all  their 
colors  into  the  loch  and  disappeared.  Fortunate 
persons,  who  now  look  down  into  the  pure  water 
properly,  can  see  these  magical  hues  at  the  bottom, 
mingling  together  like  the  tints  of  a  kaleidoscope,  in 
ever-varying,  marvellous  patterns.  But  we  had  not 
even  a  chance  to  try  our  luck,  our  captain  remorse- 
lessl}'  steaming  past  the  spot. 

We  were  now  especially  in  Rob  Eoj^'s  realm,  and 
I  saw  the  sheer  rock  rising  perpendicularly  from  the 
water,  from  which  that  resolute  and  uncompromis- 
ing gentleman  was  in  the  habit  of  dipping  his 
enemies,  and  those  of  his  adherents  who  differed 
from  him,  till  they  concluded  to  be  his  friends  or 
saw  fit  to  agree  with  him  in  opinion.  He  tied  a 
rope  round  the  waist  of  the  delinquent,  and  kept 
him  under  the  water  awhile  to  cool  his  rage  or  damp 
his  enterprise,  and  then  raised  him  a  moment  Just 
to  ask  whether  he  would  be  good.  If  he  said  "no," 
down  he  went  again,  and  if  there  were  determined 


168  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

resistance.,  without  liope  of  amendment,  Kob  Roy 
tied  tlie  rope  round  tlie  neck  of  the  unfortunate  man, 
and  then  dipped  him  for  tlie  hist  and  the  fatal  time. 

The  Lord  of  Lorn  once  defeated  the  bold  outlaw, 
and  he  took  refuge  in  a  little  cave  just  beyond  this 
rock  of  execution. 

Ben  Lomond  ranged  now  on  our  right,  and  a 
strangely  cut  peak  ou  tiie^left,  called  the  Cobbler  and 
his  Wife,  and  just  at  this  point  a  wonderful  assem- 
blage of  mountains  opened  upon  us.  Gigantic 
sweeps  of  outline,  all  softly  flowing  to  the  lake, 
flowing,  flowing,  and  lost  in  the  waters — and  also 
rising  from  the  waters  upward,  upward,  like  a  strain 
in  one  of  Beethoven's  sublime  sj^mjjhonies,  which 
seemed  to  me,  when  I  heard  it,  like  the  human 
soul's  cr}^  prayer,  demand  for  light,  wisdom,  and 
help. 

The  boat  stopped  at  Inversnaid,  but  we  concluded 
to  keep  on,  as  I  told  you  in  the  beginning.  A 
wonderfully  beautiful  and  romantic  glen  comes  to 
view,  near  to  Inversnaid,  on  the  opposite  shore,  on 
each  side  of  which  mighty  Bens  loom  up — Ben 
Crosh  and  Ben  Eim,  and  craggy,  rugged  Ben  Vain 
on  the  left,  and  lovely,  though  grand,  Ben  Yoirlich 
on  the  right.  Ben  Yoirlich  is  peculiarly  tender  in 
aspect,  though  of  vast  proportions.  It  is  something 
in  his  nature  that  gives  him  this  gentle  expression, 
no  doubt,  and  it  may  be  the  effect  of  a  shy  little  tarn 
on  its  summit,  where  the  angler  can  always  find 
trout.     That  tarn  may  be  the  pure  soul  of  this  huge 


LOCn  LOMOND  AND   THE  BENS.  169 

old  Ben,  into  wliicb  the  lieavens  constartly  gaze, 
and  wlncli  itself  holds  tlie  heavens  in  its  depths. 
Loch  Lomond  becomes  narrower  just  here,  and  the 
shores  are  enchanting,  and  the  next  memorable  ob- 
ject we  saw  was  Eob  Eoy's  great  cave.  There  are 
large  rocks  tumbled  about  the  place,  and  on  one  that 
is  exactly  over  the  opening  the  captain  pointed  to  a 
mark  ^\hic]i  identified  the  entrance.  *  *  *  '^  "  * 
The  scenery  is  very  rich  all  about  it.  Robert  de 
Bruce  also  concealed  himself  there  before  the  battle 
of  Bannockburn,  when  the  English  w^ere  hunting  for 
him. 

"  The  Braes  of  Balquhidder"  are  north  of  Invers- 
naid,  where  Eob  Eoy  is  buried.  Meantime,  during 
my  memories,  we  are  going  on,  and  a  sweet  little 
Inch  is  at  hand.  It  is  covered  with  trees,  but  by 
carefully  peering  in  I  saw  the  ruins  of  a  castle. 
The  name  of  the  island  is  "I  vow."  It  belonged  to 
the  clan  of  McFarlane,  and  one  of  its  chiefs  built 
the  castle,  saying  "I  vow  no  other  clansman  shall 
pass  by."  Directly  ahead  of  us  now  rose  Ben  Oss 
and  Ben  Douchray,  and  then  we  approached  Inver- 
annan,  where  we  landed.  *  *  -  *  *  *  As  I  sat  upon 
the  upper  deck  all  the  time,  I  had  a  full  Adew  of  the 
passengers  as  well  as  of  the  lake  and  mountains. 

It  was  all  in  harmony  to  hear  the  Scotch  dialect 
and  accent  on  every  side.  Mothers  calling  out  to 
their  bairns  "  Take  care,  noo  !  sit  doon  or  ye'll  fa'." 
"  Dinna  put  the  roup  in  yer  mou,  it's  nae  gude ;" 
and  so  on.     The  lake  was  not  smooth  to-day,  and  a 

8 


170    .  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

gentleman  told  us  we  lost  a  great  deal  by  not  seeing 
it  like  a  mirror,  reflecting  all  the  majestic  mountains. 

I  established  myself  on  the  lower  deck,  and  sat 
near  a  group  of  folk,  one  man  of  whom  was  reading 
aloud  a  trial  for  poisoning.  They  were  so  absorbed 
b}^  it  that  they  did  not  look  at  the  scenery,  which 
amazed  me.  Yet,  perhaps,  they  had  often  gone  up 
Loch  Lomond,  as  they  were  Scotchmen,  with  intel- 
ligent, amiable  faces,  though  rather  rough. 

So  we  came  to  Inverannan,  in  the  county  of  Glen- 
falloch,  and  learned  with  some  dismay  that  the  hotel 
was  two  miles  from  the  spot  where  we  were  to  dis- 
embark, and  that  there  was  no  carriage  of  any  kind 
to  convey  us,  but  only  a  light  cart  for  the  luggage. 
"We  questioned  whether  I  could  walk  so  far  after  the 
fatigue  at  Dumbarton,  but  I  accomplished  the  feat 
very  well.  We  sauntered,  entirely  at  our  leisure, 
along  the  charming  road.  Oh,  the  gurgling  btirns 
at  the  foot  of  the  wooded  braes  !  Oh,  the  sweetbrier- 
roses,  foxgloves,  daisies,  and  purple-bells,  and  the 
t desolate,  grand,  steep  Bens  that  shut  us  into  the 
quiet  vale !  rising  instantly,  not  gradually  from  the 
even  plain.  Papa  mourned  after  wooded  mountain- 
sides ;  but  I  was  content  with  the  sublime  forms 
without  any  drapery.  There  was  no  lace,  nor  ruf- 
fles, nor  flounces  upon  my  Highlands  hereabouts, 
and  not  even  a  skirt.  Naked  and  awful  they  stood — 
Michelangelic  forms,  even  as  gods,  conversing  with 
the  skies.  The  pure,  high  air  winged  my  feet,  and  I 
never  felt  better  in  my  life.     Here  I  sit  now  in  a, 


LOCU  LOMOKD  AND   THE  BENS.  171 

pretty  parlor,  and  we  also  have  comfortable  bed- 
rooms surrounded — jes !  give  ear,  England !  and 
never  more  boast  a  superiority  to  auld  Scotia — sur- 
rounded with  hospitable  pegs  and  hooks  !  !  !  Scot- 
land is  not  only  the  land  o'  cakes,  but  the  land  o' 
pegs,  and  poor  mortals  are  not  obliged  to  wander 
wild  with  despair  round  their  chambers,  holding 
their  garments,  and  crying — "  Oh,  where  shall  I  hang 
them  ;  oh  where  ?" 

I  never  saw  a  peg  in  England,  and  I  believe  Eu- 
rope cannot  show  one,  so  that  Scotland  and  America 
alone  excel  in  this  kind.  There  are  also  an  abun- 
dance of  baths  in  this  good  country,  though  it  is  so 
abused  for  uncleanliness — and  a  great  deal  of  vari- 
ous comfort. 

We  are  so  far  north  now  that  during  these  sum- 
mer months  there  is  properly  no  night,  and  there- 
fore I  said  it  was  evening  but  not  dusk,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  this  letter.  The  Gloaming  meets  the  Dawn, 
and  they  join  hands  and  dispense  with  Night  alto- 
gether, and  now  they  have  the  Moon  also  for  boon 
companion. 

We  have  had  the  most  enchanting  stroll.  At  the 
end  of  a  meadow,  close  beneath  a  great  Ben,  we  saw 
the  rudest  little  hut  that  ever  took  shape  and  was 
not  a  cave.  It  was  built  with  stones,  overgrown 
with  moss,  with  no  windows  and  one  door.  I  can 
give  you  no  idea  by  a  sketch  of  the  exceeding  wild- 
ness  of  this  wee  shelter.  We  found  also  a  very 
wonderful  oak-tree,  branching  out  from  one  root  into 


172  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND.       . 

fifteen  boles,  as  if  fifteen  separate  trees  were  spring- 
ing from  it.  Then  we  got  into  its  midst  and  sat 
down,  and  it  v/ould  have  lield  you  and  K.  also,  and 
thus  we  should  have  been  a  whole  family  living  in  a 
tree.  It  had  delightful  forks  for  chairs,  I  compared 
it  to  a  Briareus  with  one  hundred  legs,  instead  of 
arms — the  said  Briareus  standing  on  his  top,  while 
his  multitudinous  legs  sprouted  into  thousands  of 
feet,  and  his  tliousands  of  feet  into  no  end  of  toes, 
each  toe  flourishing  out  millions  of  vv'hispering 
leaves,  and  so  becoming  finally  a  tree.  Oh,  Briareus, 
thou  hast  buried  thy  head  with  a  noble  result !  *  ""  * 

The  sunshine  played  on  the  sides  of  Ben  Yoirlich 
(the  tender-souled  mountain),  and  papa  took  up  a 
bit  of  slate  from  the  ground  and  drew  his  profile, 
which  is  very  irregular  with  rocks,  and  then  we 
turued  homeward,  gathering  delicate  purple  grasses 
on  our  way. 

July  3d. — It  rains,  and  we  are  weather-bound,  yet 
we  mean  to  post  down  to  the  shore,  and  meet  the 
afternoon  steamer  for  Inversnaid. 


INYEESNAID  AND  LOCH  KATKINE  AND 
THE  TEOSAGHS. 

July  3d,  1857. 
Heee  we  are  now  at  the  veritable  waterfall,  where 
Wordsworth  met  the  Highland  girl,  and  we  hear  the 
mnsical  flow  from  the  hotel,  but  do  not  see  it,  and  it 
pours  a  heavy  rain.  We  left  Inverarinan  about  an 
hour  ago,  in  a  covered  phaeton,  and  were  obliged  to 
run  from  it  down  to  the  brink  of  the  lake,  through 
the  wet  grass,  and  then,  in  the  steamer,  I  must,  per- 
force, stay  in  the  cabin  all  the  time,  and  could  only 
see  a  little  from  the  side-windows.  What  a  loss ! 
Mists  were  on  the  mountain-tops  and  trailing  down 
the  sides  like  mantles  of  illusion  lace ;  but  I  saw 
.again  Rob  Eoy's  cave.  If  it  were  fair  weather  we 
could  go  there  this  afternoon,  either  in  a  boat  or  by 
climbing  over  rocks.  But,  immitigably,  down  falls 
the  rain,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  go  to  Loch  Katrine 
in  a  stage-coach,  and  take  a  steamer  at  one  end  and 
proceed  to  the  other.  *  *  *  From  our  parlor 
windows  we  look  directly  across  the  lake  into  the 
romantic  glen  of  Inveruglass.  Ben  Eim  and  Ben 
Yoirlich,  Ben  Yain  and  Ben  Crosli  rise  up  on  either 


174  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

side.  They  are  now  almost  wliolly  enveloped  in 
mist ;  but  when  it  clears  I  hope  to  sketch  tliem. 

July  4th.- — When  I  looked  out  this  morning  I  had 
hope  for  fair  weather,  and  the  sun  has  been  actually 
shining.  Before  breakfast  I  visited  the  waterfall, 
so  as  to  make  sure  of  it.  We  climbed  up  a  path  to 
a  little  wooden  bridge,  whicli  is  built  ovel:  it  mid- 
way. It  is  very  pretty  from  the  bridge,  and  yet  it 
seems  a  pitj^  to  have  placed  a  bridge  tliere,  as  it  is 
not  a  lovely  arch,  but  onl}^  a  straight,  common  affair. 
Wby  Vfill  man  make  a  straight  line  when  a  curve  is 
possible  ?  I  thouglit  I  should  like  the  view  better 
from  below,  and  so  I  ran  down  to  some  rocks  directly 
in  front  of  the  foaming  cascade,  and  it  was  far  more 
satisfactory  from  that  point.  The  glen  of  Inveru- 
glass  was  hidden  in  thick  mist,  and  not  a  mountain 
could  be  seen  before  breakfast.  Indeed,  it  has  been 
clear  enougb  only  witliin  an  hour  to  perceive  the 
entire  outlines.  Now  tliey  are  grand.  Ben  Crosh  is 
nearest  on  the  left.  Ben  Vain  is  on  the  right,  as 
you  enter  the  glen  ;  but  from  this  window  it  looks 
very  much  in  the  centre,  and  is  bold  and  conical. 
Ben  Yoirlich  rises  from  the  edge  of  the  water,  half 
concealing  Ben  Yain.  Ben  Eim  is  behind  Ben 
Crosh,  and  now  has  a  turban  of  thick  India  muslin 
on,  so  that  I  cannot  trace  the  line  of  his  head.    ""   *   * 

After  breakfast  we  walked  along  the  road  whicli 
leads  to  Loch  Katrine.  It  was  constructed  by  the 
Duke  of  Montrose  for  tlie  benefit  of  travellers,  and 
it  winds  round  in  a  very  comfortable  manner,  pro- 


INVEB8NAID.  175 

tected  on  the  steep  side  by  a  fence  made  of  young 
oak  of  a  year's  growth,  woven  like  basket-work.    We 
sat  down  on  the  rocks  at  the  second  turn  of  the  road, 
whence  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the  glen,  and  also  of 
the  lake  toward  Bowardennan,  over  which  Ben  Lo- 
mond uplifts  himself.     He  "  the  likeness  of  a  kingly 
crown  has  on"  this  morning  of  folded  cloud,  and  I 
have  not  seen  his  highest  height  to-day.  While  we  sat 
aloft  the  steamer  arrived  from  Balloch,  and  gave  forth 
a  great  many  people,  who  nearly  all  mounted  into  an 
omnibus  for  Loch  Katrine.     It  was  so  full  that  many 
gentlemen  were   constrained  to  walk,  and  we  were 
glad  we  had  decided  to  go  at  four  p.  m.    We  then  con- 
cluded to  take  a  boat  and  visit   Bob   Roy's   cave. 
The  lake  was  charming  to  row  upon,  and  is  very 
deep  just  at  Liversnaid — I  think  a  hundred  fathoms 
deep.     The  shores  on  the  right,  as  we  glided  along, 
were  richly  wooded  and  green  ;  but  on  the  left  the 
Brothers  Ben  rose  up  bare  and  rugged,  with  a  small 
fringe  of  trees  round  a  cottage  at  the  base  of  Ben 
Voirlich.      The  air  was  soft  and  the  sun  hot,  and  I 
trust  that  the  cold,  chilly  weather  has  passed.     We 
arrived  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  and  our  oarsman 
helped  us  climb  the  crags  nicely.      We  descended 
into  the  depths.     Bob  Boy,  with  twenty  men,  used 
to  remain  there  together  in   pretty  small  quarters ;" 
yet  there  is  as  much  space  as  in  a  room  of  a  High- 
land cottage,  perhaps.     Light  comes  in  through  two 
or  three  crevices  ;  but  an  entrance  can  be  effected 
by  one  onlj-,  and  that  one  could  be  well  defended 


17G  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

from  an  intruder.  Not  a  very  sumptuous  palace  foi 
a  king,  as  King  Eobert  Bruce  probably  thought 
when  he  fled  there  from  his  English  pursuers.  There 
is  a  ladder  by  which  we  descended  into  the  lowest 
part,  and  there  I  stood,  after  knocking  my  head 
twice,  at  the  risk  of  spoiling  my  pretty  bonnet,  too, 
though  I  believe  it  is  not  injured. 

The  cave  does  not  seem  to  be  a  natural  hollow  in 
a  rock,  but  a  result  of  the  falling  together  of  great 
boulders,  leaving  open  spaces.  The  boatman  told 
us  that  it  was  Eob  Eoy's  property,  and  that  he 
owned  the  land  for  ten  miles,  as  far  from  here  as 
Kowardennan.  The  water  is  beautifully  clear,  dia- 
mond clear,  and  of  a  golden  color.  This  mountain 
spring-water  is  delicious  to  driuk — the  first  I  have 
tasted  in  Britain  not  hard.  August  is  the  time  for 
the  heather  to  bloom,  but  I  saw  a  wee  tuft  of  crim- 
son color  on  a  rock  in  a  warm  nook.  Farewell  for  a 
few  hours. 

The  Teosachs! 

Macgkegor's  Hotel,  Head  of  Locli  Katriue, 
Fourth  of  July — Eyeniug. 

We  have  celebrated  the  day  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  in  a  very  delightful  manner.  We  left 
Inversnaid  this  afternoon. 

Before  the  stage-coach  set  forth  for  Loch  Katrine, 

papa  and  J started  on  foot,  enjoying  much  bettei 

to  walk  till   they   were   tired.     There  was  room  for 


THE  TROSACHS.  177 

sixteen  in  the  carriage  ;  but  there  were  only  two 
gentlemen,  and  my  ain  sel  was  the  only  lady.  The 
gentlemen  were  Germans,  as  I  discovered  by  the 
"neins,"  and  "jas,"  and  "  echs ;"  but  they  spoke 
English  as  well.  They  stationed  themselves  on  the 
driver's  box,  and  so  I  had  all  the  rest  of  the  fifteen 
seats  at  my  disposal.  The  road  which  we  owe  to 
his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Montrose,  winds  along  on 
a  shelf,  exactly  after  the  manner  of  that  road  in 
Madeira,  up  ^vhich  j^ou  and  I  and  K.  were  borne  in 
palanquins  or  litters.  On  our  left  were  the  braes, 
and  on  our  right  belovv^  rushed  the  Arkhill,  which 
forms  the  falls  of  Inversnaid  as  it  hurries  into  the 
loch.  It  was  very  beautiful  and  refreshing,  singing 
its  loud  song  over  the  rocks.  Where  its  banks  were 
high,  the  huge  boulders  had  tumbled  in  from  age  to 
age,  so  that  the  small  river  has  much  ado  to  get 
along,  but  having  a  downward  impetus,  along  it  will 
and  must  get,  and  its  persistence  and  importunity 
are  very  musical,  and  it  roars  like  a  thousand  night- 
ingales. The  descent  to  the  stream  from  the  road 
is  quite  precipitous,  and  iho,  basket-fence  is  not 
finished,  so  that  after  a  mile  or  so,  we  could  have 
pitched  over  as  well  as  not.  It  all  depended  upon 
the  driver  of  our  carriage — his  skill  and  his  soberness- 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  should  never  overtake 

papa  and  J .     The  hills  were  wild  and  bare  for 

a  good  distance,  and  had  no  names.  Small  stone 
hovels  here  and  there  appeared  on  the  moors,  lonely 
and  forlorn,  and  then  we  came  to  the  ruins  of  a 


178  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

stone  fort,  wliich  the  English  built  to  protect  the 
surrounding  people  from  the  terrible  Macgregors. 
In  1718,  General  Wolfe  was  stationed  there. 

As  I  could  not  reach  my  foot  travellers,  I  turned 
round  to  look  behind,  when  lo !  such  a  glorious 
vision  burst  upon  me,  as  I  had  not  yet  seen  among 
these  Highlands,  We  were  high  and  far  off,  but 
exactly  opposite,  was  the  glen  of  Iveriiglass — and 
all  those  lofty  Bens  that  cluster  there  had  risen  in 
glory  and  ascended  into  the  heavens.  Let  me  try 
to  tell  you  how.  The}'  were  half- wrapped  in  deli- 
cate gauzes,  and  the  sun,  which  was  not  shining  on 
us  nor  on  the  intervening  spaces,  was  pouring  a 
flood  of  silver-gold  splendor  into  the  glen,  in  front 
of  which  a  dark  hill  stood.  So  that  the  effect  was 
precisely  as  if  the  sun  had  dropped  into  the  glen, 
and  was  shining  up  from  it,  and  with  a  million 
arrows  of  light  was  piercing  the  mists  that  hovered 
just  beneath  the  summits  of  Ben  Crosh  and  Ben 
Yain,  in  such  a  way  that  they  appeared  miles  in 
height.  Indeed  they  seem  to  have  no  end,  but  to 
be  lost  in  the  heavens.  You  have  observed  at  sun- 
set or  toward  sunset,  how  rays  are  marked  on  the 
sky  from  the  sun  (when  veiled  in  clouds),  to  the 
horizon.  Now  fancy  the  sun  hidden  in  a  deep  vale, 
and  the  rays  streaming  up  from  it  to  the  zenith  in- 
stead of  down  from  it  to  the  horizon.  Prismatic  hues 
played  about  the  mists  like  the  changes  in  a  pearl 
shell,  and  the  whole  wonderful  pageant  was  on  such 
a  gigantic  scnle  that  I  was  breathless  with  astonish- 


THE  TB0SACII3.  175 

ment.  Eancy  a  dim  twilight  world  of  giant  propor- 
tions, Cliimborazos  and  Himalayas  piled  up,  enclos- 
ing passes  of  awful  depth,  or  assembled  in  majestic 
conclave  around  one  deepest  fell.  Fancy  them 
thinly  enveloped  in  illusive  vapor,  which  allows, 
here  and  there,  an  outline  to  be  discerned,  and  then 
let  the  Great  Carbuncle  suddenly  blaze  out  from  the 
abysses,  and  shoot  aurora  borealises  upward,  and 
transmute  Avhite  mists  into  rainbow  tissues,  and  by 
the  singular  refraction  or  reflection  magnifying  every 
line  and  mass  into  a  vastness  beyond  comprehen- 
sion. But  it  is  not  possible  to  show  it  to  you  by 
words. 

The  German  gentlemen  were  all  this  while  look- 
ing straight  ahead,  not  having  the  remotest  idea 
of  these  glories,  and  after  reflecting,  I  considered  it 
my  duty  to  tell  them.  "Wunderbar,"  "Wunder- 
schon!"  they  shouted  in  a  rapture,  and  we  all  sat 
with  twisted  necks  in  a  helpless  state  of  exclamation 
for  a  long  time.  I  say  "helpless,"  but  perhaps 
"  vain"  would  be  an  apter  word,  for  exclaim  as  we 
might  in  German  or  English,  we  could  not  adequate- 
ly express  our  emotions.  No  expression  has  been 
coined  that  would  fit  the  case,  and  Ave  were  obliged 
to  ease  off  into  "  oh's"  and  "  all's."  And  I  truly 
believe  that  these  little  ejaculations  often  save  the 
lives  of  poor  mortals.  They  are  blessed  safety- 
valves  when  the  shows  of  Creation  are  too  much  for 
us,  and  I  dare  say  "  Oh"  was  Adam's  first  utterance 
when  he  found  himself  standing  with  open  eyes  in 


180  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

Paradise.     And   I  was    so    afraid  papa    and  J ■ 

might  not  look  back ! 

The  head  of  huge  Ben  Venue  now  appeared  in  the 
distance,  the  very  Ben  Yenue,  dear,  which  overlooks 
your  beloved  Loch  Katrine,  Ellen's  lake.  It  did  not 
seem  possible  that  I  was  really  so  happy  as  to  see 
it,  and  I  then  especially  wished  for  j^ou  by  my  side 
on  one  of  the  empty  fifteen  seats.  *  "-  *  -^^     Now  I 

saw  papa  and  J far  ahead,  and  we  overtook  them 

directly.  "We  then  passed  the  small  Loch  Arklet, 
which  might  reflect  Ben  Lomond  when  smooth,  and 
then  we  arrived  at  Stronaclachar,  where  is  a  hotel 
and  a  pier,  and  a  pretty  screw  steamer  was  waiting 
foi*  us  on  the  shores  of  Loch  Katrine  itself !  Into 
this  we  immediately  entered  and  settled  ourselves 
in  the  prow,  so  as  to  see  all  before  us  without  hin- 
drance. 

*  "  *  *  Loch  Katrine  oj)ens  with  a  wide  and 
lovely  expanse  of  water  which  seems  quite  shut  in 
by  the  hills,  as  if  it  were  finished  off  at  once,  holding 
a  small  island  on  its  bosom.  We  were  a  weary  while 
waiting  at  the  pier,  and  I  could  conceive  no  reason 
why — but  each  thing  has  an  end,  and  so  had  our 
delay.  Upon  arriving  at  the  little  island  aforemen- 
tioned, which  is  covered  with  trees  and  shrubs,  Ben 
Chochan  can  be  seen,  but  there  is  no  name  to  the 
bare  mountain  bases  that  are  washed  by  the  waters 
all  along  here.  The  Lord  Willoughby  d'Eresby 
owns  the  left  side  of  the  lake,  and  the  Duke  of  Mont- 
rose the  right,  so  that  Aberfoyle  is  his.     There  are 


THE  TRO SACHS.  181 

several  passes  on  each  side,  and  in  Portnellen,  a 
pass  on  Lord  Willougbbj^'s  side,  once  lived  Eob  Koy. 
You  well  remember  Malcolm  Graeme,  so  that  -yon 
will  be  interested  to  know  that  the  famil}^  name  of 
his  Grace  of  Montrose  is  Grahame,  or  as  the  Scotch 
pronounce  it,  Graeme. 

The  broad  waters  of  the  Loch  wind  in  great  curves 
round  the  various  promontories  and  headlands,  so 
that  constantly  we  seemed  to  see  the  whole,  and 
then  a  turn  brought  to  view  still  remoter  reaches, 
and  as  we  approached  Ellen's  Isle,  the  sterile  moun- 
tain-sides changed  to  richly-wooded  steeps.  Before 
this  change,  however,  I  ought  to  tell  you  of  a  mag- 
nificent glen,  or  pass,  which  we  saw  on  the  left. 
Heavj^  clouds  hung  over  that  region,  tinging  the 
bold,  vast  heap  of  rock  and  stubble  perfectly  black, 
while  close  to  the  lake,  long  hills  SAvept  down  to  the 
brim,  of  the  richest,  brightest  green — not  of  the 
texture  of  velvet,  but  exactly  like  chenille,  soft  and 
uneven  like  that,  and  delicious  in  verdure.  The 
water  was  like  ink  beneath  these  black  masses, 
so  that  papa  proposed  I  should  fill  my  inkstand 
with  it,  as  just  before  I  left  Inversnaid,  I  upset  my 
little  portable.  But  we  have  traversed  the  inky 
flood,  and  passed  the  mighty  pass,  and  now  glide 
into  peculiarly  enchanted  realms.  Sir  Walter  stood 
thereabout  with  magic  wand,  and  the  whole  boat's 
company  assembled  amidships  when  Ellen's  Isle 
came  in  view,  as  if  it  were  the  promised  land.  What 
is  like  the  power  of  genius !     The  captain  told  his 


182  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

own  minute  stories,  as  if  Ellen,  and  tlie  Douglas,  and 
Roderic  once  lived  and  loved  and  f ought ;  and,  ^  in 
our  imagination,  did  not  we  all  devoutlj*  believe  so  ? 
Tlie  island  is  much  smaller  than  I  had  fancied, 
but  lovely,  and  entirely  covered  with  trees  and 
shrubs,  as  are  all  "the  banks  and  braes"  at  this  end 
of  the  loch,  while  far  above  rises  Ben  Yenue,  rugged 
and  stern.     Opposite  to  it — 

"  Ben  An  heaves  Mgh  his  forehead  bare." 

The  beauty  and  richness  seem  to  increase  as  we 
go  on  from  Ellen's  Isle.  Scott's  description  of  its 
innumerable  riches  only  mirrors  the  plain  fact, 

I  looked  with  all  my  eyes  at  every  side.  I  wished 
to  be  Argus,  so  as  to  see  all  round  at  once,  and  not 
lose  anything  behind  while  I  was  gazing  before,  or 
on  one  hand  while  looking  on  the  other.  Alas ! 
however,  we  have  but  two  eyes,  and  we  are  bound  to 
be  thankful  when  they  both  look  the  same  way,  in- 
stead of  in  different  directions. 

It  is  one  wilderness  of  thickly -wooded  hills  at  the 
head  of  the  lake,  and  then  begins  the  pass  of  the 
Trosachs.  Two  carriages,  one  open  and  one  closed, 
awaited  us  there,  and  we  preferred  the  open  one,  so 
as  to  enjoy  the  prospect.  There  had  been  only  a 
slight  sprinkling  of  rain  during  our  voj^age  of  ten 
miles,  and  though  now  it  threatened  somewhat,  I 
thought  I  would  take  the  risk.  The  whole  narrow 
road  was  enchanting  from  beginnr-ng  to  end,  over- 
hung with  trees,  guarded  well  by  Ben  Yenue  and 


THE  TB08AGH8.  185 

Ben  An  on  eitlier  liand,  with  small  burns  gleaming 
among  the  wayside  shrubbery,  and  flowers  and  sweet- 
brier  hanging  out  long  wreaths  of  roses. 

Soon  another  lake — Loch  Aohray — opens  the  pass. 
Bound  this  water  the  hills  are  much  lower.  Trosachs 
means  Bristled  Territorj^.  Two  arched  stone  bridges 
span  a  river  that  flows  from  Loch  Achray  to  Loch 
Vennachar. 

So  now  on  the  shores  of  Loch  Achray,  we  droA'e 
up  to  a  castellated  building,  Macgregor's  Hotel,  built 
by  Lord  Willoughby  d'Eresby.  It  has  corner 
towers  which  J disrespectfully  called  pepper- 
boxes ;  but  Avhich  are  castle-like,  and  in  one  of  them 
is  our  parlor.  It  is  a  delightful  room,  with  four 
lancet  windows  like  a  true  turret.  So  at  last  I  am 
living  in  a  tower,  as  I  always  wished  to  do.  One 
lancet  opens  upon  Ben  Venue,  another  upon  the 
lake.  It  is  wainscoted  with  polished  oak,  and  the 
deep  embrasures  and  furniture  are  also  of  oak.  The 
walls  are  hung  with  a  mosaic  pattern,  crimson  and 
wood-color.  The  carpet  is  crimson  Brussels,  and 
the  couches  and  chairs  have  crimson-velvet  cushions. 
No  Macgregor  of  former  days  ever  lived  in  such  a 
fine  castle  as  this. 

After  tea  we  strolled  out  toward  Callender,  with 
Loch  Achray  on  our  right.  A  tiny  little  stone  kirk 
soon  came  in  sight,  which  we  walked  round,  and 
then  sat  down  on  a  comfortably  low  parapet  to  gaze 
about.  The  water  was  smooth,  and  perfectly  re- 
flected the  purple  and  gold  clouds  of  sunset,   and 


184  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

there  were  actually  level  lands  on  its  banks,  Avliile 
Ben  Yenue  rose  aloft.  Ben  An  from  one  point  pre- 
sented a  perfect  pyramid,  and  it  is  really  difScuU  to 
say  wliat  shape  any  mountain  has,  the  form  changes 
so  much  at  different  points  of  view.  Until  we  are 
very  close  upon  Ben  Lomond,  however,  its  shape 
holds,  always  like  a  head  and  shoulders. 

It  was  in  the  pass  of  the  Trosachs,  you  know,  that 
Fitz-James  stumbled  and  fell  when  he  v,"as  hunting. 
It  was  formerly  a  mere  gorge  where  now  the  good 
road  winds.  We  gathered  here  from  a  wild  eglan- 
tine three  roses — one  a  shut-bud,  but  showing  the 
lovely  pink  petals — another  not  quite  half  opened, 
and  a  third  just  ready  to  unfold,  but  curved  over  the 
stamens.  We  named  them  after  three  children  we 
know,  and  they  are  the  prettiest  of  portraits. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  we  got  back  to 
the  hotel,  still  day,  and  though  I  wished  very  much 
to  go  to  Loch  Katrine,  we  concluded  to  defer  our 
visit  there. 

^J.  Ji.  if.  ^  Ji  ^j. 

July  6th. — The  waiter  came  with  a  request  that 
we  would  dine  at  the  table  d'hote,  because  it  was 
Sunday,  and  the  servants  wanted  rest  and  leisure ; 
and  I  could  not  but  consent,  though  I  was  very 
sorry.  So  we  went  down  into  the  dining-hall,  which, 
in  harmony  v/ith  the  rest  of  the  castle,  had  an  un- 
ceiled  roof  of  polished  rafters  of  oak,  in  gothic  peaks, 
and  an  oaken  wainscot.  On  one  side  was  a  broad 
vv'indow  of  painted  glass,  with  three  lights.     Oppo- 


TUE  TB0SAGH8.  185 

site  me  bung  tlie  portrait  of  some  redoubtable  hero, 
Robert  cle  Bruce,  Eob  Eoy,  or  Macgregor,  I  pre- 
sume. Between  two  windows,  at  one  end,  was  a 
picture  of  a  bisliop,  and  opposite  him  a  convex 
mirror,  surmounted  bj  an  eagle. 

The  table  was  exactly  full,  and  I  saw  hardly  one 
comely  person.  Two  young  gentlemen  in  gray,  and 
a  young  clergyman  at  the  top  of  the  table,  were 
good-looking,  but  only  one  individual  in  the  room 
was  eminently  handsome.  There  fell  great  pauses 
in  talk,  one  of  which  I  broke  by  saying  to  papa, 
"  What  a  pretty  dining-hall  this  is  !"  and  my  pro- 
found remark  proved  quite  a  blessing,  for  they  all 
began  to  speak  of  it  to  one  another,  and  continued 
to  keep  up  a  babble  to  the  end. 

After  dinner  it  was  clear  and  fine,  and  we  went  to 
walk,  and  decided  to  go  to  Loch  Katrine  through  the 
famous  pass  of  the  Trosachs.  We  were  guarded  on 
each  side  by  Ben  An  and  Ben  Yenue ;  and  there 
were  the  wildest  fells,  the  steepest  precipices,  beet- 
ling crags,  singing  burns,  and  plumy  foliage — every 
combination  in  form  and  texture  of  soft  beauty  and 
rugged  grandeur.  When  we  arrived  at  the  lake,  we 
saw  our  pretty  steamer  moored  fast,  resting  over 
Sunday,  and  several  row-boats  also.  Two  thatched 
buildings  are  on  the  margin  of  the  water,  one  of 
them  covered  with  moss  and  lichens,  and  larae 
clusters  of  a  white  flowering  plant.  The  front  of 
this  hut  was  ornamented  with  devices  made  of  sap- 
lings twisted  into  ornaments  in  alto-relievo.     The 


18G  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

other  was  a  shelter  for  animals.  Before  us  laj 
Ellen's  Lake,  shut  in  by  the  promontories  and 
capes,  so  as  to  seem  very  tiny,  while  Ben  Yenue, 
the  mighty  sentinel,  kept  watch  on  the  left  of  the 
dream-haunted  spot. 

Some  friendl}^  dry  boards  were  piled  up  near  the 
cattle-shed,  and  I  had  a  good  rest  there,  after  a  walk 
of  a  mile  and  a  quarter.  One  way  in  which  we  dis- 
cover the  vastness  of  Ben  Venue  is  by  finding  that 
he  always  seems  just  alongside,  go  as  far  as  you 
will.  A  mantle  of  mist  about  his  shoulders,  and  a 
gleam  of  sunshine  from  behind  a  cloud,  would  at 
once  make  him  appear  of  infinite  altitude.  He  has 
thrown  off  (if  he  ever  had  any)  all  his  "  lendings" 
from  head  and  body,  but  there  are  heaps  of  drapery 
of  richest  material  fallen  at  his  feet ; — such  lovely, 
feathery  garments,  as  if  his  royal  robes  had  been  of 
emerald  marabouts  intermingled  with  ostrich  plumes 
and  a  great  deal  of  pea-green  chenille  trimming. 
The  gem  of  purest  water  that  erewhiles  dropped 
from  his  loosened  gabardine  is  the  lake  itself.  It 
seemed  very  small  as  we  looked  at  it  from  our  pile 
of  boards. 

"We  made  up  our  minds  to  go  on  to  Ellen's  Isle, 
though  it  was  rather  far,  but  there  was  no  other  way 
to  see  it  unless  there  had  been  a  donkey  for  me,  or 
it  had  been  a  week-day  and  v\^e  could  have  hired  a 
boat.  So  we  took  the  delightful  path  that  is  made 
on  the  borders  of  the  water  sometimes,  and  some- 
times farther  inland.     It  is  about  twelve  feet  broad, 


THE  TROSACnS.  .  187 

and  just  as  wild,  lovely,  and  varied  as  woodland  path 
can  be,  and  made  tuneful  by  mountain  rills  wliicb 
run  across  tlie  way  into  tlie  lake  :  often  walled  in, 
too,  by  horrent  crags  tliat  rise  up  from  the  level 
ground,  wedging  the  innocent  air  with  sharp  points, 
though  often  wrapping  their  "  epouvantables  ter- 
reurs"  in  mantles  of  heath  and  moss.  The  purple 
heath  was  in  early  bloom  along  the  sides,  and  I 
gathered  some  for  you.  I  did  not  see  the  "light 
harebell"  that  "raised  its  head  elastic  from  her 
airy  tread" — which  is  a  pity ;  but  at  last,  at  last, 
came  "  the  snow-white  beach"  to  which  Ellen  shot 
her  shallop  when  she  heard  the  bugle,  and  directly 
opposite  this  was  her  island  home  !  The  sun  had 
now  come  fully  out,  the  wind  was  still,  and  it  was  a 
scene  of  perfect  repose  and  loveliness.  Though,  as 
I  said  before,  the  isle  looks  smaller  than  I  expected, 
yet  distances  and  scenes  are  very  difficult  to  estimate 
correctly  across  water,  and  I  think  it  may  be  found 
large  when  close  upon  it.  It  is  thickly  wooded  and 
there  are  cliffs  and  rocks,  and  we  are  bound  to  sup- 
pose there  are  ruins  of  the  castle  of  the  Douglas 
somewhere  within  the  recesses.  What  castle  that 
we  see  is  so  real  to  our  hearts  and  fancies  as  this  ? 
There  is  a  beautiful  bay  made  by  a  peninsula  that 
reaches  far  beyond  the  island,  and  the  beach  is  cov- 
ered with  white  stones — some  of  which  we  gathered 
up  for  you.  I  Avalked  all  over  it,  so  as  perchance  to 
set  my  foot  where  "  Snowdoun's  Knight  "  set  his,  as 
he  descended  from  the  thickets .  to  step  into  "  the 


188  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

liglit  shallop"  of  tlie  Ladj  of  tlie  Lake.  Just  as 
the  perfect  reflection  of  the  surrounding  landscape 
looks  more  real  and  finished,  as  well  as  lovelier  than 
the  tangible  scene,  so  the  dreams  of  poets  are  more 
truth  than  very  facts.  The  Douglas,  the  GrEeme 
in  spirit  had  been  there.  Ellen  lived  and  breathed — 

"  Her  head  tlirown  back,  lier  lips  apart, 
Like  monument  of  Grecian  art." 

Papa  found  a  stone,  hollowed  like  a  little  cup — 
and   Ave  drank  of  the   dissolved  diamond  dropped 

from  Ben  Yenue's  regal  vestments,     J la}'  down 

prostrate  and  took  a  reviving  draught,  and  we 
mused  and  gazed  till  about  eight  o'clock.  The  sun 
had  not  yet  set,  and  the  long  gold  lights  and  shad- 
ovfs  were  enchanting ;  but  we  were  obliged  to  com- 
mence our  return,  because  there  were  more  than 

two  miles  to  walk.     J ran  on  before  us,  and  just 

as  1»i'e  were  coming  opposite  an  enormous  cliff,  we 
heard  him  shouting  aloft — 

"And  like  a  slieet  of  burnished  gold, 
Loch  Katrine  lies  before  me  rolled !" 

How  little  he  supposed  he  should  repeat  those 
lines  in  the  very  place  where  Fitz-James  himself 
stood,  perhaps,  when  he  first  heard  them  read  in 
Leamington.  The  setting  sun  threw  wonderful  gold 
floods  over  the  wooded  braes  and  slopes  and  through 
the  glades  ;  and  once  in  the  dark  depths  of  forest, 
a  single  group  of  trees  flamed  in  its  beams  like  fire. 


TEE  TBO SACHS. 


180 


Wliat  a  country  is  Great  Britain !  Every  atom 
of  it  is  a  jevrel.  History  and  poetry  transmute  into 
precious  stones  every  particle  of  its  dust.  One  can- 
not look  abroad  or  plant  Ms  foot,  but  a  thousand 
illustrious  shades  spring  np  before  him — noble  deeds 
and  creations  of  genius  make  it  fairy-land.  And 
full  as  it  is  of  riches,  it  i  j  .-jo  small  that  we  can  fold 
our  arms  round  it  and  loA^e  it  and  enjoy  it.  Hail 
Britannia  ! 


YI. 

BEIDGE  OF  ALLAN. 

July  6th,  1857. 

Here  we  are — arrived  at  the  most  famous  of  the 
Scottish  S]Das,  at  the  Queen's  Hotel,  and  we  are  most 
unexpectedly  here,  as  I  will  tell  3^ou. 

"We  left  the  Trosachs  at  nearly  four  o'clock,  in  a 
mail-coach,  for  Stirling.  The  coach  had  a  small 
body  or  calyx,  and  a  very  wide-spreading  corolla. 
We  three  and  a  stranger-lady  were  in  the  calyx,  and 
innumerable  peoiole  were  perched  upon  the  corolla, 
like  so  many  bee..;  and  such  a  gorgeous  king-bee  as 
the  driver  was  you  will  never  see,  unless  you  see  one 
of  her  Majesty's  mail-coachmen  in  a  new  scarlet 
coat.  Every  time  he  appeared  in  sight,  I  heard  the 
sound  of  trumpets,  and  the  landscape  kindled.  M}'" 
scarlet  bee  buzzed  about  so  long,  without  apparent 
aim,  that  we  were  quite  tired  of  waiting.  You,  per- 
haps, remember  the  coachman  from  Newby  Bridge 
to  Milnthorpe.  He  looked  like  a  huge  moth-miller 
in  his  light-drab  wrapper,  but  I  liked  him  better 
than  this  scarlet  creature,  though  not  his  coat  so 
well.      Finally  we  bowled  off  very  x^leasantly.     The 


BBIDGE  OF  ALLAK  191 

road  skirted  Locli  Acbray,  and  tlieu  a  valley  tliroiigli 
wliich  a  stream  wound  to  Loch  Yennachar,  the  Tro- 
sach  crags  continuing  on  our  left  till  we  came  to  a 
hotel.  But  first  we  passed  the  Bridge  of  Turk 
(vide  "  the  chase "  in  the  Lady  of  the  Lake)  and 
saAv  the  Eiver  Turk  rushing  down  Glenfinlass — a 
broad  glen  Avitli  bleak  mountains  rising  from  it — 
and  of  coarse  I  thought  of  Fitz-James,  who  dashed 
over  this  bridge  on  his  "  gallant  gray,"  when  pur- 
suing the  stag.  The  huts  of  Duncraggan  then 
came  in  sigiit,  built  in  the  open  space  near  the  glen, 
singular,  desolate  old  huts.  Now  Loch  Yennachar 
(lake  of  the  fair  valley)  opened  upon  our  right,  and 
opposite,  on  the  left,  giant  Ben  Ledi  lifted  its 
double-headed  top,  one  of  the  four  highest  Bens  in 
Scotland  (3,000  feet).  After  passing  the  loch,  we 
began  to  see  a  most  lovely  valley  in  the  distance — a 
river  winding  through  it,  and  a  tov/n  situated  on  the 
fairest  plain,  broad  and  bright,  with  richly  wooded 
cliffs  sweeping  up  in  long  curves  from  it,  and  Ben 
Ledi  growing  more  and  more  grand  as  we  left  his 
immediate  vicinity.  I  wish  you  to  have  an  image 
of  this  valley.  It  took  a  character  of  vastness,  it 
was  so  exceedingly  smooth  and  wide,  and  gave  me 
the  impression  that  everything  was  cleared  aAvay  at 
last,  allov/ing  plenty  of  room  to  breathe  and  con- 
sider, while  the  heights  which  closed  it  in  afar  off 
gave  an  effect  of  comfortfible  and  comprehensible 
space,  while  plains  that  reach  to  the  horizon  almost 
weary  one  v/ith  their  indefinite  immensity.     George 


192  NOTES  m  SCOTLAND. 

Herbert,  in  one  of  his  divine  poems,  speaks  of  the 
Lord's  "transparent  rooms" — and  this  seemed  one 
of  them,  though  on  earth,  and  not  in  heaven.  I 
think  it  must  be  after  this  yalley  that  the  loch  is 
named  Yennachar,  fair.  Before  lis  were  bhie  dis- 
tances, probably  including  Stirling  Heights,  and  as 
we  drew  nearer  the  vision  grew  more  beautiful,  and 
a  bridge  of  three  arches,  the  midmost  the  tallest, 
captivated  mj  eyes,  so  eager  and  grateful  for  curves. 
The  Teith  is  a  tolerably  wide  river,  flowing  over 
rocks,  and,  in  some  places  extremely  shallow,  so  that 
■when  Eob  Koy  was  chased  over  it  he  need  scarcely 
have  wetted  his  flying  feet.  "We  stopped  at  a  hotel 
to  change  horses,  and  had  twenty  minutes  to  walk 
about.  We  went  to  the  pretty  bridge  and  looked 
down  into  its  clear  water,  and  saw  tall  trees  droop- 
ing their  branches  into  it  to  take  a  sip.  The  trees 
were  quite  lordly  all  round.  The  long  street  of  Cal- 
lender  is  bordered  by  all  kinds  of  thatched  cottages, 
small  inns,  and  low  shops,  not  at  all  comely,  but  we 
saw  some  large,  handsome  villas  among  the  groups 
of  Vv'oods  outside  the  thickly  peopled  part.  Just  as 
we  were  settled  again  in  our  calyx,  another  stranger- 
lady  joined  us ;  a  person  who  looked  anxious  and 
careful,  as  if  she  had  so  many  children  she  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  or  some  other  great  burden  on 
her  mind..  She  charged  the  driver  over  and  over 
again  to  leave  her  at  "  the  Queen's,"  as  if  she  feared 
to  be  mislaid  somewhere ;  and  when  he  had  c[uieted 
her  uneasy  mind  we  resumed  our  way.     The  road 


BRIDGE  OF  ALLAN.  193 

now  lay  across  a  more  level  and  desolate  country. 
I  put  out  m}'  bead  to  glance  back  once,  and  saw 
Ben  Ledi  standing  alone  like  a  monarcli,  a  Saul 
among  his  bretliren,  taller  by  the  head  and  shoul- 
ders than  any  other. 

We  now  came  to  Doune,  where  the  rivers  Teith 
and  Ardoch  meet,  and  at  their  confluence  is  an  old 
ruined  castle,  making  a  stately  picture  ;  and  soon 
after  leaving  Doune  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Stirling's 
storied  height.  I  saw  but  for  an  instant  an  abrupt 
ascent  from  a  plain,  and  a  heap  of  turrets,  and  then 
it  was  all  gone  again.  When  we  arrived  at  the  Spa, 
the  coach  stopped  at  this  hotel  to  allow  oar  anxious 
passenger  to  alight,  and  I  asked  her  about  the  hotels 
in  Stirling.  I  supposed  this  was  the  town  of  Stir- 
ling, or  immediately  in  the  environs  of  it,  and  the 
hotel  looked  so  large  and  inviting  that  I  asked  her 
if  she  could  recommend  it.  "  Oh,  yes,  she  could," 
and  so  we  decided  to  remain  here,  and  did  not  dis- 
cover, till  after  our  malles  were  in  and  our  rooms 
engaged,  that  we  were  not  at  Stirling,  but  at  the 
Bridge  of  Allan,  three  miles  away,  and  that  our 
fellow-traveller  was  the  landlady  of  this  very  hotel, 
and  that  it  was  "the  Queen's."  The  coach  had 
driven  away,  however,  and  here  we  must  sta}',  and 
it  proves  so  very  beautiful  that  we  are  not  sorry. 
Scott  has  made  the  place  memorable;  besides  that 
it  has  natural  advantages  of  situation.  After  tea  we 
walked  out,  and  found  another  great  hotel,  with 
gardens  of  rose-trees  in  full  bloom,  a  pretty  church 


194  NOTES  IN  SCOTLAND. 

of  the  Establishment,  a  miglity  fountain  nearly 
ready  to  play,  a  nice  little  bo-wling-green,  and  a 
view  of  Stirling  Castle.  We  tlien  turned  about  to 
walk  on  the  bridge.  Near  this  are  the  original  old 
cottages  which  first  composed  the  Tillage.  The 
bridge  has  been  renewed  on  one  side ;  but  on  the 
other  looks  very  old,  with  two  arches.  It  spans  the 
Allan-water.  "  Allan"  comes  from  a  Celtic  word — 
aluinn — meaning  beautiful.  The  parish  is  named 
Logie,  and  is  bounded  on  one  side  by  Dumblane. 
We  walked  along  a  road  leading  to  a  church,  which 
gradually  ascended.  Embov/ered  cottages  were  on 
our  right  hand,  and  under  one  clustering  vine  a 
woman  sat  knitting,  and  I  asked  her  about  the 
church.  She  said  it  was  not  an  ancient  one,  but 
quite  pretty  inside  ;  so  we  did  not  visit  it,  and  turned 
on  our  steps,  when  behold !  spread  before  us  and  on 
one  side  a  magnificent  prospect.  The  sun  threw 
long  beams  of  light  from  his  closing  ej'es,  and  out 
of  the  rich,  cultivated  plain,  rose  in  the  midst  the 
high  crag  upon  which  the  renowned  Stirling  Castle 
is  built.  Nearer  to  us  the  Cliff  Craigforth,  less  high, 
but  perfectly  beautiful  and  thickly  wooded,  seemed 
to  invite  another  castle  to  crown  its  summit  with 
battlements.  A  steep  rock  on  the  highest  side  I 
thought  might  be  a  ruined  wall,  but  a  woman  near 
us  said  it  was  not.  Farther  to  the  ease  the  Grand 
Abbey  Craig  swept  up  like  a  wave,  and  on  this  the 
national  monument  to  William  Wallace  is  to  be 
erected,  and  a  nobler  pedestal  for  the  monument  to 


^      I 

S3  "QO 


BRIDGE  OF  ALLAN.  195 

a  Iiero  could  not  be  found  in  any  kingdom.  It  is 
far  more  superb  than  the  elevation  on  wliicli  Stir- 
ling Castle  stands,  and  there  are  remains  of  a  wall 
on  its  face,  which  are  a  sign  of,  who  knows  what  ? 
deeply  interesting  historic  events  in  the  vanished 
ages. 

Besides  the  three  I  have  mentioned,  there  is 
another  on  the  horizon  over  Craigfortii,  still  keep- 
ing the  form  of  the  others,  but  after  rising  it  con- 
tinues for  miles  and  miles  along.  I  believe  it  ia 
"theOchils." 


NOTES  IN  ITALY. 
I. 

ROMAN   JOURNAL. 

PiNCiAN  Hill. — Palazzo  Larazani. 

EojiE,  February  14th,  1858. 
"We  have  been  in  Eome  since  tlie  20th  Januaiy, 
and  I  have  not  written  a  word  of  journal.  Till  tlie 
2d  it  Avas  bitterl_y  cold,  and  afterward  but  little 
milder,  and  not  sufficiently  so  to  make  my  fingers 
flexible  enough  to  hold  a  pen.  On  the  5th  it  be- 
gan to  rain,  the  weather  previously  having  been 
clear  and  brilliant.  The  rain  softened  the  air,  or  it 
rained  because  the  air  was  softer,  and  rained  on  till 
the  12th.  Now,  again,  it  is  glorious  sunshine  and 
cold ;  but  every  one  says  the  winter  has  gone.  I 
have  not  really  commenced  seeing  Rome  in  earnest, 
and  with  accurate  observation,  but  intend  to  do  so 
after  the  Carnival.  I  have  walked  about,  however, 
and  had  glimpses  of   what  is  before  me.     I  have 


198  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

spent  one  hour  in  St.  Peters,  walked  tlirougli  tlie 
Forum  Eomanum,  and  seen  the  Arch  of  Septimiiiy 
Severus,  the  portico  of  t,he  Temple  of  Saturn,  the 
three  beautiful  columns  of  the  Temple  of  Vespasian, 
the  three  of  the  Temple  of  Minerva  Chalcidica,  the 
single  column  erected  to  the  Emperor  Phocas,  the 
Schola  Xantha,  the  Temple  of  Faustina  and  Antoni- 
nus, the  Saci  a  Via,  terminated  hj  the  Arch  of  Titus. 
How  I  like  to  write  down  the  illustrious  names  of 
what  I  have  all  my  life  long  so  much  desired  to  see! 
I  cluster  them  together  like  jewels,  and  exult  over 
them.  The  Forum  is  a  kind  of  vale,  above  Avhich 
rises  the  Palatine  on  the  right,  as  one  approaches 
from  the  Corso  ;  while  the  Capitoline  towers  up  be- 
hind the  Arch  of  Septimius  Severus,  which  is  at 
the  opposite  end  of  the  Forum  to  the  Arch  of  Titus. 
I  have  wandered  over  the  Coliseum,  passing  by  the 
ruins  of  what  was  once  called  the  Temple  of  Peace, 
but  is  now  the  Basilica  of  Constantino.  At  a  dis- 
tance I  have  seen  the  ruins  of  the  Palace  of  the  Cse- 
sars,  crowning  the  Palatine.  I  have  driven  under 
the  Arch  of  Constantino,  through  the  Porta  San  Se- 
bastiano,  to  the  Appian  Way,  and  passed  under  the 
Arch  of  Drusus  to  the  tomb  of  the  Scipios  and  the 
Columbaria,  by  the  stupendous  ruins  of  the  Baths 
of  Caracalla,  and,  outside  the  walls,  back  through 
the  Porta  Maggiore,  upon  the  Piazza  of  St.  John 
Lateran.  Since  the  drive  I  have  been  into  that 
grand  old  Basilica,  and.  half  looked  at  it ;  also,  into 
Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  on  the  Esquiline.     One  day 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  199 

M'lien  alone,  I  clianced  upon  a,  most  beautiful  temple, 
with  a  miglitj'  flank  and  portico,  wliich  I  find  to  be 
the  Temple  of  Mars  Ultor,  in  the  Forum  of  Augus- 
tus. I  have  been  on  the  Quirinal,  and  seen  the 
Greek  groups  of  Castor  and  Pollux  by  Phidias  and 
Praxiteles,  before  the  Pontifical  Palace  ;  and  the 
Forum  of  Trajan  (or  the  little  that  has  been  exca- 
vated of  it),  with  the  wonder  of  art,  Trajan's  col- 
umn, sculptured  by  Apollodorus,  from  top  to  base 
with  hundreds  of  figures,  in  the  highest  style.  This 
is  a  slight  sketch  and  foretaste  of  the  riches  I  have 
before  me. 

February  19th. — It  is  a  superb  and  cold  day.  After 
breakfast  we  undertook  to  search  out  Santa  Maria 
degl'  Angeli  on  the  Viminal.  We  went  through  the 
Via  Felice,  and  passed  the  Piazza  Barberini,  in 
which  is  the  Triton  fountain— a  stone  basin,  wherein 
sits  a  Triton  with  upturned  head,  spouting  a  thin 
line  of  water  into  the  air,  and  then  we  ascended 
through  the  Via  delle  Quattro  Fontane.  On  its  high- 
est point  the  four  fountains  make  the  corners  of  the 
four  ways.  They  are  all  at  the  angles  of  houses, 
and  look  very  old,  with  recumbent  figures,  mostly 
without  noses,  quietly  re]30sing  hj  the  ever-flowing 
streams.  At  this  point,  v^^e  turned  to  the  left  into 
the  Via  Porta  Pia,  while  at  the  end  of  the  Via  Qui- 
rinalis  on  the  right,  v/e  could  see  afar  the  obelisk, 
round  which  are  the  glorious  groups  of  Castor  and 
Pollux,  ^vith  their  horses,  crowning  the  Monte   Ca- 


200  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Tallo,  \vhere  we  went  the  other  clay.  We  walked 
along  bj  a  dead  wall  for  some  time— probably  the 
Barberini  Palace  Gardens— and  then  by  the  monas- 
tery and  Church  of  Santa  Susanna  and  Santo  Ber- 
nardo, and  Santa  Maria  della  Yittoria,  opposite  to 
which  is  the  fountain  of  Termini.  This  is  quite  impo- 
sing, with  a  colossal  statue  of  Moses  in  the  centre,  stri- 
king the  Bock.  Its  old  name  was  Foiitana  dell'  Acqua 
Felice.  There  are  four  marble  lions,  with  their  heads 
turned  toward  one  another,  while  out  of  their  mouths 
flow  the  inexhaustible  clear  streams.  The  Moses  is 
the  v/ork  of  Prospero  di  Brescia,  who  died  of  mor- 
tification at  the  derision  which  it  called  forth.  But 
I  do  not  see  that  it  is  so  very  absurd.  It  is  a  mighty 
old  form.  On  each  side  are  bas-reliefs,  in  one  of 
which  Aaron  predominates — in  the  other,  Gideon. 
The  places  of  these  four  new  marble  lions  were  once 
filled  by  four  Egyptian  lions  of  black  granite,  that 
were  removed  from  before  the  Pantheon — which  I 
think  is  unpardonable — and  now  the  Pope  has  put 
them  in  the  Vatican  Museum. 

We  saw  no  Basilica,  and  so  we  went  on,  passing 
the  Yilla  Bonaparte, — a  charming  little  mansion  in 
the  midst  of  green  shrubbery,  looking  English  in 
form  and  arrangement,  but  without  the  lovely  velvet 
lawns  :  then  the  Yilla  Torlonia,  which  seemed  an 
Eden  through  the  gates  ;  and  the  city  wall  limits  it 
on  one  side.  We  went  out  of  the  Porta  Yia,  designed 
by  Michel  i^-Hgelo.  Upon  the  top  of  Michel  Aiigelo's 
gate  Pio  Nono  has  built  another  story,  as  if  for  no 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  201 

other  reason  tlian  to  put  his  name  npon  it ;  for  the 
popes  emblazon  their  names  in  this  way,  all  over 
Rome,  on  every  ruin  and  church  and  vy^all,  as  if  it 
were  in  the  least  interesting  to  read  the  names  of 
popes,  or  that  it  is  of  any  account  to  know  what 
the}'  did.  I  wish  they  would  beautify  and  repair 
and  restore,  without  marriug  their  good  deeds  hy 
illuminating  their  unimportant  cognomens  upon 
them,  as  if  to  proclaim — "  It  was  I,  Gregory,  or 
Pius,  or  Benedict,  YII.,  YIIL,  or  IX.,  and  not  Greg- 
ory, Pius,  or  Benedict,  X.,  XL,  or  XII.,  who  did  this 
fine  thing.  Observe  !"  Near  this  spot  is  wondrous 
interest ;  for  it  was  not  far  off  that  Hannibal  threw 
his  spear  over  the  wall  of  Servius  Tallius,  of  which 
a  portion  still  remains,  stretching  from  the  ancient 
Porta  Collana.  The  Via  Porta  goes  straight  over  its 
site,  and  on  the  right  hand  is  what  is  left  of  the 
venerable  wall.  Between  it  and  the  Villa  Torlonia 
is  the  Campus  Sceleratus,  where  the  vestal  virgins, 
who  had  broken  their  vows,  were  buried  alive.  The 
Pretorian  camp  of  Tiberius  was  near  this  dismal 
field  of  murder,  still  more  to  the  northeast.  Beli- 
sarius  had  also  something  to  do  with  the  walls  sur- 
rounding the  Pretorian  camp.  Beyond  the  gate  afar 
off  were  the  ever-lovely  blue  Sabine  and  Alban  hills, 
snow-capped  and  of  enchanting  form.  In  the  clear 
light  of  morning  they  looked  like  the  Delectable 
mountains  of  Christian's  dream,  Avhere  all  the  saints 
were  shining.  No  Saint  Mary  of  the  Angels,  how- 
ever, was  yet  vi-ible,  and  upon  looking  at  the  map 

9* 


SOS  XOTES  m  ITALY. 

we  found  we  had  taken  tlie  wrong  direction,  and  that 
we  must  return  to  the  Fountain  of  Termini.  So  vv'e 
retraced  our  way,  and  went  through  the  Piazza  di 
Termini  again,  by  the  cahii  Lions,  and  the  never- 
ending  crj'stal  streams, — more  hke  the  ceaseless 
bounty  of  God  than  anything  else — and,  like  His 
bounty,  too  much  contemned  and  forgotten  by  these 
Komans,  who  use  it  neither  to  make  themselves  nor 
their  city  clean,  and  who  think  those  persons  who 
drink  it  mad  men  and  women.  The  grape  flows  for 
them,  and  the  voice  of  the  many  waters  calls  to  them 
in  vain.  We  found  a  Vv^ide  space  beyond  the  Piazza, 
with  avenues  of  trees  leading  two  ways  from  one 
point,  like  the  tines  of  a  fork,  and  at  the  end  of  one 
a  gate  of  bronze,  which  we  thought  might  be  the 
entrance  to  the  Basilica  we  sought.  But  it  was  the 
gate  of  a  garden  of  the  Yilla  Negroni,  where  Craw- 
ford lived,  and  we  saw  within  some  giant  cactuses, 
which  looked  as  if  carved  out  of  pale,  green  marble. 
A  French  sentinel  stood  near,  and  I  asked  him 
where  the  church  was,  and  he  pointed  to  a  heap  of 
ruins ;  but  we  could  see  among  them  no  sign  of  the 
magnificent  structure  we  had  read  of.  These  ruins, 
however,  were  the  wreck  of  the  baths  of  Diocletian, 
— a  portion  of  them  having  been  made  into  a  Chris- 
tian temple  by  Michel  Angelo.  They  were  very 
superb,  and  a  mile  in  circuit,  built  by  forty  thousand 
Christian  slaves.  The  vast  hall,  in  the  midst  of  the 
Thermae,  is  entirely  preserved,  and  forms  the  largest 
part  of  the  church.     Eight  of  the  enormous,  grand 


BOMAN  JOURYAL.  203 

columns  of  oriental  granite  are  the  identical  columns 
of  Diocletian's  baths,  and  stand  just  as  tliej  were 
first  placed.  They  have  marble  bases  and  Corin- 
thian capitals,  and  loftj  arches  rest  upon  them. 
The  ceiling  is  still  studded  with  the  very  brass  rings 
from  which  the  lamps  were  suspended  fifteen  hun- 
dred years  ago,  and  it  is  vaulted  in  a  somewhat 
gothic  form,  so  that  it  looks  lighter  and  freer  than 
any  other  ceiling  I  have  yet  seen  in  Rome,  giving  a 
fountain-like  expression  to  this  noblest  hall  in  the 
world;  for  no  hall  of  ancient  times  has  come  to  the 
present  age  so  grand  and  fine  as  this.  Michel  An- 
gelo  has  arranged  the  church  in  the  form  of  a  Greek 
cross.  The  Natatio,  or  swimming-bath,  is  higher  by 
a  step  or  two  than  the  hall.  On  one  side  hangs  the 
Martyrdom  of  St.  Sebastian,  by  Domenichino.  Op- 
posite is  the  Baptism  of  Christ,  hj  Carlo  Maratta. 
Domenichino's  fresco  was  veiled ;  but  upon  my 
pulling  at  the  curtain,  a  respectable  priest  came 
forward  and  drew  it  aside.  For  over  every  rare  and 
famous  masterpiece  in  the  churches  these  Romans 
hang  a  veil,  so  as  to  get  a  paul  for  removing  it ; 
though  I  should  like  to  think  it  were  to  preserve  the 
painting  from  dust  and  light,  which  might  fade  the 
colors.  This  holy  man,  however,  seemed  neither  to 
expect  nor  await  a  fee, — honor  be  to  him  ever !  We 
took  chairs,  and  sat  down  before  the  great  picture. 
I  had  never  heard  of  it,  though  I  saw  a  mosaic  of  it 
at  St.  Peter's  on  Ash- Wednesday,  when  I  attended 
the  ceremonies  in  the  Sistine  Chapel.     The  mosaic 


204  JSfOTES  IN  ITALY. 

I  clicl  not  dwell  upon,  for  then  I  was  taken  up  bv  the 
Transfiguration  (in  mosaic  also),  and  Michel  Angelo's 
Pieta,  in  marble.  But  the  original  fresco  to-daj  im- 
pressed me  deeply.  It  was  first  painted  on  the  wall 
of  St.  Peter's,  and  by  marvellous  skill  transferred  to 
this  place.  Why  St.  Peter's  should  be  deprived  of 
so  wonderful  a  work  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  it 
was  intended  that  all  its  pictures  should  be  (as 
they  are  now,  with  one  exception)  of  imperishable 
stone.  Executioners  are  drawing  up  the  form  of 
St.  Sebastian,  with  ropes,  on  a  cross.  On  the  right, 
a  soldier  is  dashing  by  upon  a  horse,  and  shakes 
a  truncheon  at  the  saint  as  he  goes.  Before  the 
cross,  kneeling  on  the  ground,  is  a  woman,  turning 
her  face  toward  the  horseman.  Another  woman  and 
a  child,  both  with  hands  extended  in  fear  and  hor- 
ror, crouch  in  one  corner.  A  man  with  bow  and 
'  arrows  stoops  on  the  other  side,  raising  his  head  to 
speak  to  a  soldier,  who  is  bending  down  to  him. 
Other  officers  are  in  the  distance.  Above,  very  near 
the  head  of  St.  Sebastian,  an  angel  hovers,  with  a 
crown  in  his  hand,  in  the  act  of  dropping  it  upon 
the  brows  of  the  martyr.  Higher  still,  Christ,  in  a 
form  of  freshest  youth,  reposes  in  the  arms  of  other 
angels  and  cherubs,  in  a  blue  mantle.  Seraphim 
are  blowing  trumpets  on  the  left.  The  head  of  St. 
Sebastian  is  raised,  with  an  expression  of  divine  pa- 
tience, at  the  same  time  with  a  keen  sense  of  suffer- 
ing. The  pure,  pale  features  are,  however,  becom  • 
ing  glorified,  as  if  reflecting  the  heavenly  vision  above 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  205 

him.  Eternal  j'onth  and  rest  look  down  upon  liim 
from  tlie  face  and  figure  of  Christ.  The  countenance 
of  the  angel  with  the  crown  is  of  etherial  beauty 
illumined  also  with  the  soft  light  of  his  golden  hair, 
floating  backward.  The  woman,  kneeling  in  the 
centre — her  face  in  profile — is  beautiful,  a  ricli 
mass  of  sunny  tresses  gathered  beneath  a  turban, 
and  her  neck  and  shoulders  exquisitelj;^  painted. 
The  headlong  rush  of  the  horse,  and  the  rapid  action 
of  its  rider,  are  in  fine  contrast  with  the  silent  agony 
and  patience  of  the  saint,  and  the  unearthly  repose 
of  Christ,  beaming  through  the  heavens.  This  is 
unlike  any  martyrdom  I  have  seen,  for  Domenichino 
has  succeeded  in  making  the  triumph  over  pain 
complete,  and  instead  of  the  distressing  horror,  I  felt 
only  a  peace  which  passes  all  understanding.  The 
longer  I  looked,  the  more  profoundly  I  was  affected 
by  the  sublimity  of  the  sacrifice,  for  St.  Sebastian 
looks  delicately  organized,  and  full  of  tender  sus- 
ceptibility, as  if  pain  to  him  were  pain  indeed,  and 
as  if  he  were  conscious,  perfectly,  of  the  agony  he 
endured,  and  should  endure.  Yet  he  is  willing. 
His  gentle  might  is  inflexible,  and  controls  the  quiv- 
ering sensations  of  anguish  into  resignation  ;  and  his 
countenance  is  becoming  celestial,  as  I  said,  as  the 
heavens  open  upon  him,  with  the  sound  of  trumpets, 
the  golden  crown,  and  above  all,  the  Lord  Jesus, 
not  represented  bleeding  and  wounded,  and  as  "  a 
man  of  sorrows,"  but  with  serene  joy  beaming  like  a 
pearl  on  his  forehead.     His  aspect  says  to  the  suf" 


Zm  NOTES  TN  ITALY. 

ferer,  "  Come  unto  me,  my  beloved,  my  brother,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest." 

I  was  obliged  to  leave  tlie  picture  mucli  sooner 
than  I  wished,  without  half  comprehending  it ;  but 
I  shall  go  again.  I  should  now  like  to  know  all 
about  Domenichino,  and  whether  he  painted  uncon- 
sciously in  a  religious  devotion,  or  whether  a  per- 
sonal experience  of  sorrow  and  torment  had  revealed 
so  much  to  him  as  this.  I  think  we  generall}^  take 
a  masterpiece  as  if  directly  from  the  hand  of  God, 
and  do  not  consider  the  character  or  idiosyncrasies 
of  the  artist.  But  it  seems  as  if  the  soul  must  be 
pure,  and  the  instrument  clean,  by  means  of  which 
the  Creator  delineates  such  a  scene  as  is  represented 
here. 

The  opposite  painting  by  Carlo  Maratta  was  rich 
and  soft  in  color,  but  I  saw  nothing  more  than  that 
of  it  to-day.  The  tops  of  both  were  arched,  as  well 
as  those  of  every  picture  in  the  church.  The  vast 
hall  is  surrounded  with  these  arched  pictures  in 
every  compartment,  which  gives  great  splendor  of 
effect.  Yery  many  of  them  are  the  originals  of  the 
mosaics  in  St.  Peter's.  At  each  end  of  the  transepts 
are  altars  in  chapels,  and  the  pavement  of  one  has 
been  lately  renewed  or  newly  laid  by  Pio  Nono,  and 
is  magnificent — a  mosaic  of  the  most  rich  and  highly 
polished  marbles,  shining  like  glass  ;  and  the  Greek 
cross  is  repeated  over  and  over,  alternating  with 
other  patterns.  I  did  not  know  the  earth  contained 
such  varieties  of  superb  marbles  as  I  have  already 


ROMAN  JOURNxiL.  207 

seen  in  Italy— first  in  Genoa  and  now  in  Eome.  The 
whole  pavement  of  the  church  was  once  like  this 
new  part,  but  is  now  dimmed  and  defaced  by  innu- 
merable footsteps.  An  immense  meridian  line  is 
inserted  transversely  from  one  corner  to  another. 
Above  the  arched  niches  are  other  arcs  and  lights, 
and  the  sections  of  the  arcs  are  also  filled  with 
brightly  colored  frescoes  or  oil  paintings.  Such 
compartments  as  these,  so  filled,  are  truly  sump- 
tuous. 

I  can  fancy  Diocletian's  Calidaria,  encrusted  and 
paved  with  marbles  and  bas-reliefs,  and  adorned 
witli  frescoes,  while  a  hundred  blazing  lamps,  sus- 
pended from  those  very  brass  rings  now  visible,  kin- 
dled into  splendor  the  polished  stones  and  glowing 
colors,  (the  light  of  day  never  penetrated  into  the 
Roman  thermce,)  and  brought  out  all  the  expressive 
lines  of  the  statues  of  the  gods  and  goddesses  stand- 
ing around.  The  ancient  Laconium,  now^  the  vesti- 
bule, is  a  dome  upon  the  ground.  The  tombs  of 
Salvator  Rosa  and  Carlo  Maratta  are  here,  with 
two  others,  opposite  each  other  in  the  circle,  and 
between  them  are  shrines  and  altars,  with  pictures. 
In  the  short  passage  from  the  vestibule  to  the  hall 
is  a  noble,  calm  statue  of  St.  Bruno,  by  Houdon. 
He  is  looking  down  in  reposeful  tliought,  with  his 
hands  crossed,  and  a  face  of  sincere  benignity.  The 
draper}^  is  very  straight  and  simple,  in  perfect  har- 
mony with  the  lines  of  the  countenance.  It  is  truly 
grand,  with,  no  gesture  or  attitude  for  efi'ect — ^just 


SOS  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

standing,  serene  and  firm  in  faith,  with  a  very  living 
presence.  Not  a  statue  of  a  saint  in  St.  Peter's  can 
be  compared  to  it  for  a  moment.  Bernini  makes 
all  bis  apostles  and  holy  men  stage-actors.  There 
is  always  a  whirlwind  among  their  garments,  and  a 
tempest  of  passion  (virtuous  rage,  I  presume)  tosses 
their  limbs  about.  But  the  soul  of  St.  Bruno  pos- 
sesses itself,  his  limbs  and  his  robes  in  peace. 

We  did  not  go  to-day  into  the  cloisters  behind  the 
chancel.  In  the  court  of  the  cloisters  I  wish  to  see 
some  cypresses  planted  by  Michel  Angelo,  and  I 
shall  go  another  time. 

We  came  out  and  walked  along  the  other  avenue, 
around  the  ruins  of  the  baths,  now  in  part  converted 
into  public  granaries  and  barracks  for  French  sol- 
diers. Endless  arches,  almost  all  filled  in  with 
bricks,  rise  on  every  side ;  and  half-ruined  vaulted 
roofs  and  mighty  walls,  thick  and  high,  have  now  all 
tumbled  together  in  confusion. 

The  B^vebeeini  Palace  Gallery. 

February  20th. — Bright,  cold  day.  We  went  to 
the  Barberini  Palace.  I  feel  indignant  with  it,  be- 
cause Urban  VIIL,  who  was  a  Barberini,  built  it  out 
of  the  Coliseum — daring  to  pull  down  that  lordly 
ruin  for  materials  for  his  house.  The  entrance  to 
the  court  is  under  a  very  old,  battered  stone  gate, 
that  looks  like  early  Roman  work,  and  the  Pope 
may  have  plundered  some  other  classical  ruin  for  it. 


BOMAN  JOURNAL.  209 

Soldiers  are  ou  guard  at  and  around  and  within  the 
gate,  who  seem  to  belong  to  the  prince ;  for  they 
are  neither  Papal  nor  French.  There  may  be  a  few 
red  legs  among  them,  however.  The  palace  is  three- 
sided.  On  the  right  is  the  gallery  of  pictures,  which 
is  on  the  ground-floor.  A  magnificent  white  marble 
staircase  winds  up  to  the  upper  suites  of  apartments, 
with  beautiful  columns  and  balusters — the  finest  in 
Rome.  We  then  w^ent  into  an  ante-room,  where 
some  old  and  not  valuable  pictures  were  standing  on 
the  floor  and  hanging  on  the  walls  ;  but  we  did  not 
stop  to  look  at  them.  A  civil,  intelligent  custode 
received  us  in  the  first  gallery,  and  gave  us  a  mounted 
card-board,  upon  which  the  names  of  the  pictures 
and  their  artists  were  written,  both  in  Italian  and 
French,  with  most  hospitable  care.  There  were 
also  tubes  for  use  on  the  marble  tables.  A  holy 
familj^,  by  Francia,  first  arrested  me — one  of  his 
saintly  works.  Mary's  face  is  extremely  beautiful, 
matronly,  pure  and  intellectual,  as  his  Madonnas  so 
often  are,  looking  older  than  Raphael's  Madonnas, 
and  as  if  her  experience  were  deep  and  wide.  It 
is  a  Mother,  with  a  perfect  sense  of  all  a  mother's 
responsibilities, — and  a  sacred  mother,  as  if  she 
knew  she  Avere  the  long-hoped-for  "  mother  in  Israel," 
who  has  the  Christ  for  her  son.  The  infant  has  a 
noble  head,  and  it  has  the  air  and  motion  of  the 
heads  of  so  many  of  the  best  old  masters,  as  if  they 
heard  stately  miisic,  and  poised  themselves  in  unison 
with  it,  with  a  peculiar  expression  of  dignity  and 


210  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

duty  and  seyere  precision — not  as  tliey  would,  but 
as  tliey  ouglit — "  Not  as  /  will,  but  as  Tliou  wilt." 
The  genius  of  Francia  is  tborouglily  devotional,  as 
^vell  as  that  of  Fra  Augelico.  The  only  other  mas- 
terly picture  in  this  room  is  Christ  disputing  with 
the  Doctors,  by  Albert  Durer.  The  Christ  is  not  at 
all  divine ;  but  the  power  and  wonder  of  the  paint- 
ing is  in  the  heads  and  action  of  the  Jewish  Rabbis, 
who,  every  one,  have  the  truth  of  portraiture,  and 
are  all  the  Jews  of  Jews,  especially  one  frightful 
creature,  who  stands  close  by  the  young  Jesus,  with 
his  wicked  e^^es  fastened  on  the  child-face,  and  his 
fingers  resting  on  his  hands.  I  think  this  Jew  was 
the  father  of  Judas  Iscariot.  Eccolo  !  only  I  cannot 
get  so  much  Avickedness,  malice,  and  meanness  into 
my  sketch  as  are  in  the  original,  especially  the  eye 
is  not  so  evil.  He  has  an  unwholesome,  yellow  com- 
plexion, while  all  the  rest  are  as  red  as  x^dam.  Two 
are  reading  out  of  the  Talmud,  to  prove  something 
against  the  words  of  Christ ;  and  the  books  are 
painted  vsdth  true  Dutch  fidelity.  They  are  books, 
and  not  pictures  of  books.  I  wish  "  the  Light  of 
the  "World"  had  a  more  adequate  beauty,  and  then 
the  contrast  of  the  frame-work  of  "  Scribes,  Phari- 
sees, Hypocrites"  with  him  would  be  more  suggestive 
still ;  but  it  certainly  is  a  clief  d'oeuvre,  as  it  is. 

In  the  next  saloon  is  the  Garden  of  Eden,  after 
the  Fall,  by  Domenichino.  The  Lord  has  come 
down,  riding  on  angels  and  cherubs,  to  ask  Adam 
why  tie  did  not  ansAver  when  He  called  him.     Adam 


BOMAX  JOURNAL.  Jill 

points  to  Eve  to  excuse  himself  for  having  disobeyed 
His  commands,  with  a  pitiful  air  of  unmanly  coward- 
ice, and  actually  shrugs  his  shoulders  at  the  Al- 
mighty [the  first  shrug],  as  if  he  said,  "Thou  seest 
how  it  is — that  woman  tempted  me."  Eve  is  kneel- 
ing, and  turns  to  the  Creator  with  a  much  more 
dignified  and  respectable  gesture  of  concern,  and 
points  to  the  serpent  for  her  defence ;  and  the  ser- 
pent is  wriggling  away  as  fast  as  it  can,  perfectly 
conscious  of  its  base  purpose.  All  the  grandeur  of 
Adam  has  collapsed  under  that  shrug  and  cringing 
look  toward  his  Maker,  though  it  is  evident  that 
his  form  is  noble  and  his  "  front"  has  been  "  sub- 
lime." Self-respect  having,  gone,  however,  and 
taken  with  it  his  self-possession,  he  is  king  no  more. 
He  is  weak,  and  his  sceptre  is  taken  from  him.  A 
lamb  in  the  foreground,  lying  hitherto  in  quiet 
felicity,  raises  its  head,  and  looks  at  the  scene,  as  if 
aware  of  a  disturbance  in  the  bliss  of  Eden,  with  a 
questioning,  awakened  action  of  the  pretty  head. 
It  is  the  loveliest  lamb  I  ever  saw  painted,  except 
that  one  by  Murillo  in  "  The  Good  Shepherd,"  in 
the  National  Gallery  of  England.  If  Domenichino 
intended  to  prefigure  "  The  Lamb  that  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world,"  its  marvellously  tender  beauty 
is  accounted  for.  Close  by  comes  prowling  a  tiger, 
no  longer  in  loving  fellowship  with  lambs,  but 
glaring  with  newh'-born  ferocity  at  the  unconscious 
creature,  ready  to  devour  it  in  a  moment.  This 
group  suggests  "  all  our  woe."     Just  above  reposes 


212  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

the  Almiglity  Father  in  His  wreath  of  angels.  It  is 
no  face  of  God ;  but  the  angels  are  of  enchanting 
beauty,  especially  one  in  the  centre,  with  a  noble 
head,  lustrous  with  golden  curls.  Another  puts  back 
his  lovely  hair  to  gaze  up  at  the  grand  form  he  up- 
holds, with  a  clear,  sweet  look  of  confidence.  An- 
other on  the  left  side  actually  blazes  with  joy ;  and 
a  faithful  little  cherul),  who  supports  a  globe  upon 
his  shoulders  beneath  the  Lord's  left  hand,  has  an 
expression  of  cheerful  duty  rendered,  which  is  a 
sign  and  lesson  to  all  beholders.  I  had  no  idea  of 
Domenichino's  power  to  represent  beauty  till  3'ester 
day  and  to-day.  The  disorder  of  emotion  and  dis- 
turbance of  self-respect  caused  by  sin  in  the  group 
of  Adam  and  Eve,  the  immediate  suffering  of  Inno- 
cence for  the  guilty,  tj^pified  by  the  Lamb  and 
springing  Tiger,  and  the  baby-love  and  rapture  of 
the  little  angels,  who  behold  the  face  of  the  Father 
with  no  shame  nor  fear,  compose  a  wonder  of  art 
and  a  Avorld  of  Truth. 

And  now  we  sat  down  before  Beatrice  Cenci !  at 
last,  at  last !  after  so  many  years'  hoping  and  wish- 
ing. This  is  a  masterpiece  which  baffles  words.  No 
copy,  engraved  or  in  oils,  gives  the  remotest  idea  of 
it.  It  is  all  over  Home,  in  every  picture  dealer's 
shop,  of  every  size  ;  besides  being  engraved.  In 
the  copies  are  red  eyelids,  and  other  merely  external 
signs  of  sorrow.  In  the  original  the  infinite  desola- 
tion, the  unfathomable  grief,  are  made  evident 
through  features  of  perfect  beauty,  without  one  line 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  213 

of  care,  or  one  shadow  of  experience, — translucent 
and  pure  as  marble.  Extremest  youth,  with  youth's 
virgin  innocence  and  ignorance  of  all  crime — an  ex- 
pression in  the  eyes  as  if  thej^  asked,  "  Oh,  \\'hat  is 
it — what  has  happened — how  am  I  involved  ?"  Never 
from  any  human  countenance  looked  out  such  ruin 
of  hope,  joy,  and  life  ;  but  there  is  unconsciousness 
still,  as  if  she  did  not  comprehend  how  or  why  she 
is  crushed  and  lost.  The  white,  smooth  brow  is  a 
throne  of  infantine,  angelic  puritj-,  without  a  visible 
cloud  or  a  furrow  of  pain,  yet  a  wild,  endless  despair 
hovers  over  it.  The  lovely  ej^es,  with  no  red  nor 
swollen  lids,  seem  yet  to  have  shed  rivers  of  crystal 
tears  that  have  left  no  stain— no  more  than  a  deluge 
of  rain  stains  the  adamantine  arch  of  heaven.  It  is 
plain  that  the  fountains  are  exhausted,  and  she  can 
no  longer  obtain  any  solace  from  this  outlet  of  grief. 
The  delicate,  oval  cheeks  are  not  flushed  nor  livid, 
but  marble-pale,  unaffected  by  the  torrents  that 
have  bathed  them,  as  if  it  were  too  hard  an  agony 
to  be  softened  by  tears.  The  mouth  is  unspeakably 
affecting.  The  rose-bud  lips,  sweet  and  tender,  are 
parted  slightly,  yet  with  no  cry,  nor  power  to  utter 
a  word.  Long-past  words  is  the  misery  that  has 
banished  smiles  forever  from  the  blooming  flower  of 
her  mouth.  Night  is  gathering  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
perfect  face  is  turning  to  stone  with  this  weight  of 
voiceless  agony.  She  is  a  spotless  lily  of  Eden, 
trailed  over  by  a  serpent,  and  unable  to  understand 
the  desecration,  yet  struck  with  a  fatal  blight.     Her 


214  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

gaze  into  tlie  eyes  of  all  human  kind,  as  she  passes 
to  her  doom,  is  pathetic  beyond  any  possibility  of 
describing.  One  must  see  that  backward  look  to 
have  the  least  idea  of  its  power,  or  to  know  how 
Guido  has  been  able  to  express,  without  high  or 
livid  color  or  distorted  lines  or  heavy  shadow,  a  sor- 
row that  has  destroj^ed  hope,  and  baffles  the  com- 
prehension of  its  victim.  If  this  be  a  portrait,  and 
it  surely  is,  then  Beatrice  Cenci  must  have  been  as 
free  from  crime  as  the  blazing  angel  of  Domeni- 
chino's  picture  opposite  to  it,  Avho  is  basking  in  the 
"  effluence  increate."  The  heavy  folds  of  the  white 
turban  and  mantle  are  all  in  keeping  with  her  inno- 
cence and  involved  and  weighty  woe.  It  is  certainly 
one  of  the  greatest  works  of  man.  One  could  look 
at  it  forever  and  not  tire.  I  wonder  that  the  Prince 
Barberini  can  give  it  up  so  much  to  the  public,  for 
these  rooms  are  open  to  all  daily  from  eleven  to 
five. 

Close  beside  the  Beatrice  hangs  Raphael's  For- 
narina — not  the  Fornarina  I  had  always  seen  en- 
graved, which  is  probabh^  that  at  Florence ;  but 
quite  a  different  person.  She  is  sitting  with  un- 
covered neck  and  arms,  holding  up  transparent 
drapery  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  lies  upon  her 
lap,  across  a  red  mantle.  She  is  the  darkest  bru- 
nette, with  deep,  rich  color,  black  eyes  and  hair,  and 
a  turban,  threaded  Avith  gold,  upon  her  head  and  a 
bracelet  upon  her  left  arm.  There  is  the  most  com- 
plete contrast  between  the  two  persons.     The  For- 


BOMAN  JOURNAL.  21? 

narina  is  very  handsome,  but  witli  tlie  world  and  its 
wiles  thoroughly  mingled  in  her  mortal  mixture 
of  very  earth's  mould.  Life,  sunned  without  stint, 
glows  in  her  ruby-red  and  golden-brown,  and  light- 
ens in  her  laughing  eyes.  Fresh  youth,  unconscious 
innocence,  lily-purity,  have  dep£irted.  She  is  a  gem, 
but  a  carbuncle  rather  than  a  pearl  or  a  diamond. 
She  is  utterly  incapable  of  the  desolating  sorrow 
that  has  swept  over  Beatrice.  The  Fornarina  could 
no  more  comprehend  such  grief  than  Beatrice  can 
comprehend  the  crime  which  will  destroy  her  life, 
and  has  already  destroyed  her  peace.  It  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  say  which  is  nearest  heaven,  even  so,  under 
such  circumstances  of  horror  as  surround.  Beatrice. 
Raphael  could  never  idealize  this  Fornarina  into  a 
Madonna.  I  am  not  sure,  though  I  believe  he  has 
the  other  that  is  in  Florence. 

Next  this  picture  is  the  portrait  of  Lucrezia  Cenci, 
the  stepmother.  She  is  a  stern  lady,  with  regular 
features  and  no  pity,  beautifully  painted  by  Scipio 
Gaetani.  Her  brown  hair  makes  a  coronet  on  her 
brow  :  a  plain  black  dress,  like  that  of  an  abbess, 
is  folded  over  her  bosom,  and  she  holds  a  book  in 
her  hands. 

GUEDO'S  AUROEA. 

Miss  M.  came  in  accidentally  while  we  were  at 
the  Barberini  Gallery,  and  when  we  left  it,  I  pro- 
posed to  go  to  the  Bospigiiosi  Palazzo,  to  see  Gui- 
de's Aurora,  and  Miss  M.  wished  to  go  with  us.     Sc 


316  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

we  mounted  tlie  Quirinal  to  the  Monte  Gavallo 
together,  and  observed  the  house  where  Milton 
hved  while  in  Kome.  It  is  a  corner  house,  at  the 
angle  of  which  is  one  of  the  Quattro  Fontane,  on 
the  Yia  Quirinalis.  The  glorious  groups  of  Castor 
and  Pollux  were  good  to  see  against  the  deep-blue 
sky  as  we  ascended  the  hill.  Miss  M.  aiid  Mr.  H. 
walked  round  them,  while  I  inquired  for  the  Palazzo 
Rospigliosi.  The  French  sentinels  did  not  know, 
though  thej  were  keeping  guard  just  opposite  to  it, 
as  it  proved.  People  passing  did  not  know ;  but 
finally  a  woman  told  me,  pointing,  not  to  a  palace 
fagade,  but  to  a  long,  high  wall,  at  whose  gate  stood 
a  porter  in  blue  and  silver,  with  a  chapeau  bras. 
Entering,  we  were  in  an  immense  court,  and  at  the 
farthest  side  of  it  stood  the  palace.  But  the  Aurora 
is  in  the  Casino  (garden  house),  and  not  in  the 
palace,  as  the  frantic  gestures  of  the  distant  porter 
signified,  his  brandishing  arm  being  stretched  to- 
ward the  left  of  the  great  court  where  was  an  arched 
way  leading  to  a  smaller  enclosure.  (I  am  not  sure 
it  was  arched.)  Upon  a  door,  up  several  steps,  were 
brass  tablets,  whose  inscription  announced  that  the 
Casino  could  be  seen  on  Wednesdays  and  Saturdays. 
A  gardener  admitted  us  here.  Opposite  the  door 
was  a  grotto,  where  once'  had  been  a  fountain,  but 
now  there  was  no  voice  of  waters, '  and  a  broken 
statue  occupied  the  place.  Perhaps  it  was  a  Nai'ad, 
but  I  did  not  take  notice  at  the  time.  Stone  stair- 
ways led  on  both  hands  to  the  garden  above,  and  all 


BOMAN  JOURNAL.  217 

along  tJ^em  stood  marble  busts  and  statues  of  an- 
tique workmansliip — lieads  of  goddesses,  virtues, 
and  powers- -spoils  from  tlie  Batlis  of  Constantine 
(326),  upon  whose  site  tlie  palace  was  built  in  1603, 
I  should  say  rather,  upon  a  very  small  part  of  the 
site,  large  as  the  palace  is  ;  for  those  famous  Eoman 
Baths  were  miles  in  circuit,  and  that  of  Constantine 
covered  the  whole  summit  of  the  Quirinal,  where 
palaces,  villas,  and  public  edifices  now  stand.  Paul 
Y.  was  the  barbarian  pope  (anti-classical,  I  mean), 
Avho  removed  all  vestiges  of  them  to  build  this  pal- 
ace,, retaining,  however,  for  the  adornment  of  the 
Casino,  the  sculptures  we  saw  to-day  ;  and  consider- 
ately placing  the  noblest  relics.  Castor  and  Pollux:, 
with  their  horses,  on  the  Piazza,  before  the  pontifi- 
cal residence ;  and  statues  of  the  Nile  and  Tiber  in 
front  of  the  capitol,  for  all  men  freely  to  see  and 
study. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Casino  garden  is  a  laguna, 
in  a  vast  stone  basin,  surrounded  with  statuettes  of 
marble.  Orange  and  lemon  trees  and  various  flowers 
grow  round  about,  and  a  rare  tropical  tree,  with  del- 
icate foliage  and  a  strange  knotted  trunk.  In  the 
fagade  of  the  Casino  are  inserted  ver}-  beautiful  bas- 
reliefs  of  white  marble.  This  is  a  way  the  E-omans 
have.  If  they  pick  up  a  rare  bit  anywhere,  they 
fasten  it  upon  the  outsides  of  their  walls  and  houses, 
without  regard  to  symmetry  of  arrangement  often, 
being  wildly  determined  to  save  it,  at  all  events. 
The  want  of  order  at  fi.rst  disturbed  my  mind,  but 

10 


218  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

wlien  examining  and  enjoying  eacli  morsel,  I  was 
indifferent  about  their  being  tossed  at  the  walls  in 
such  a  random  style. 

Finally  we  entered  the  central  saloon,  and  there, 
on  the  ceiling,  dawned  the  world-renowned  Aurora, 
and  Apollo  rose  up  in  his  chariot  with  the  wreath  of 
Hours.  I  was  amazed  to  see  the  fresco  as  brilliant 
as  if  painted  to-day,  perfectly  unharmed  by  time 
and  atmosphere.  Four  artists  were  copying  it  to- 
gether. Fc  does  not  cover  the  whole  ceiling  as  I  sup- 
posed, but  only  the  centre,  enclosed  in  the  simili- 
tude of  a  frame,  richly  arabesqued  and  carved.  I 
found  that  even  Morghem  does  not  quite  give  us 
this  radiant  creation,  not  even  the  expression, 
though  through  him  I  recognized  all.  But  the  color 
adds  infinitely  to  the  glory  of  the  composition. 
Apollo  blazes  in  a  sea  of  golden  light,  and  the  only 
part  of  it  I  do  not  entirely  admire  is  his  hair,  which 
is  too  pale  and  short,  I  think.  I  wish  there  were  a 
sheaf  of  yellow  beams  rolled  up  in  lovely  splendor 
on  his  brow,  and  flowing  off  backward,  like  a  wake 
of  sunshine.  This  truly  Olympic  form  bends  for- 
ward with  majestic  ease,  as  he  lightly  holds  the  reins 
of  the  magnificent  horses,  swallowing  up  the  dark- 
ness with  his  presence,  and  filling  the  dawn  with 
his  overflowing  day,  as  she  looks  to  him  for  illumi- 
nation. Such  glorious,  fresh,  rejoicing  movement 
and  outbreak  were  never  painted  before.-  Guido 
has  made  the  sun  to  rise  as  no  landscapist — no 
Claude  even,   nor   Turner  has   done.      The  lovely 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  SIS 

Aurora,  beaming  from  lier  violet  mantle  witli  re- 
flected joy— tlie  young  Morning  Star  liolding  ou  to 
his  kindled  torcli  with  a  gentle  but  resolute  force,  as 
he  endeavors  to  outstrip  the  absorbing,  fast-rushing 
god,  perhaps  with  a  premonition  of  his  doom  :  the 
horses,  mottled  with  a  struggling  light  and  shade, 
purple  and  pearl — the  rainbow  richness  of  the  dra- 
pery of  the  Hours,  each  one  so  individual  in  charac- 
ter and  expression — the  softly-heaped  clouds — the 
deep-blue  sea  beneath,  and  mountains  beyond,  tipped 
with  morning — this  is  Guide's  sunrise  in  items,  but  ye 
who  wish  to  see  the  sumptuous  pageant  as  a  wliole, 
come  to  Kome,  and  behold  it.  There  is  no  other 
way,  words  and  the  pencil  cannot  copy  it.  One 
Hour  steps  gravely  forth,  fateful  like  the  Grecian 
Destiny,  with  calm,  classic  contour.  Another,  with 
fair,  blonde  hair  and  azure  robe,  points  forward  with 
ivory  finger,  while  she  turns  to  the  rest,  as  if  prom- 
ising bliss  to  come,  while  her  delicate  feet  airily 
tread  upon  the  imponderable  vapors.  She  is  strong, 
and  will  give  strength  to  many.  Her  hair  is  of  the 
finest  mist  of  amber.  Holding  the  hand  of  this 
heaven-robed  Hour  is  one  draped  in  a  peculiar  tint 
of  green — not  grass-green,  nor  sea-green,  but  a 
bright,  cool,  tourmaline  hue,  visible  in  early  morn- 
ing at  a  fountain  in  a  grotto.  It  is  sjanbolic  of  hope 
and  trust,  and  the  shape  it  enfolds  has  a  wonderful 
grace.  She  looks  out  of  the  picture  at  all  the  world, 
soft,  sweet,  with  a  fulness  of  content  that  can  never 
become  scant.     Her  feet    are  beautiful  with  glad 


220  I{OTES  IN  ITALY. 

tidings,  and  dance  to  the  music  slie  liears,  though  iv€ 
do  not,  "wrapt  in  our  muddy  vesture  of  decay." 
*  ->:-  *  *  *  *  There  is  another,  looking  back 
with  a  sad  thoughtfulness,  as  if  no  future  could  be 
to  her  like  the  past.  This  is  one  of  Guido's  up- 
turned faces,  in  which  he  excelled  so  much.  One 
Hour  is  younger  than  the  rest,  with  quite  an  infan- 
tine expression,  as  if  life  were  in  close  bud,  and  no 
knowledge  had  yet  shadowed  her  bliss  of  ignorance. 
There  is  no  record  in  her  innocent  countenance  of 
experience  or  inquiry. 

A  mirror  is  arranged  in  the  saloon  in  such  a  waj'', 
that  instead  of  breaking  one's  neck  by  bending  back 
the  head,  one  can  sit  down  and  look  into  it,  and  see 
the  fresco,  as  if  it  were  hung  on  the  side  of  the 
room.  The  mirror  is  on  a  very  slightly  inclined 
table,  I  think. 

Tiiere  are  here  a  bronze  horse,  found  in  the  baths, 
and  busts  of  Emperors  and  Empresses,  without 
nan!es,  upon  pedestals,  and  the  upper  panels  of 
the  walls  are  painted  in  fresco  by  Tempesta,  and 
the  lower  with  landscapes  by  Paul  Brill.  Two  side 
apartments  are  hung  with  oil  joaintings,  but  no  pic- 
ture is  pre-eminent  except  another  Garden  of  Eden, 
after  the  Fall,  by  Domenichino,  in  which  Adam  (in 
return  for  the  apple,  I  suppose)  is  giying  Eve  some 
fig-leaves.  But  I  was  either  not  in  the  proper 
mood  to  see  it,  or  it  was  really  quite  inferior  to  the 
conviction  of  the  unfortunate  pair,  in  the  Barberini 
Gallery. 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  221 

I  was  interested  in  a  portrait  of  Poppsca  Sal)  in  a, 
the  fearfully  depraved  wife  of  Nero,  over  whom  she 
exercised  such  despotic  sway,  and  who  was,  I  had 
thought,  so  supremely  beautiful.  She  has  a  small 
head  and  features,  by  no  means  of  uncommon 
beaut}^,  and  a  slender  figure,  and  reminded  me  of  a 
portrait  of  Jane  Shore,  that  I  saw  at  the  Manchester 
Exhibition  of  Art  Treasures.  She  looks  cruel  and 
crafty,  and  I  observe  that  cruel  persons  always  are 
rather  thin,  with  small  and  sharply-cut  features — 
handsome,  but  not  lovely  nor  inspiring  confidence. 
Have  I  indeed  seen  Poppsea,  the  terrible  creature  ? 

There  was  a  Christ,  bearing  His  Cross,  ver}^  fine, 
by  Daniele  de  Volterra,  and  a  great  picture,  by 
Ludovico  Caracci,  of  the  Death  of  Samson.  The 
Caracci  alwaj's  excite  my  opposition,  for  some 
reason,  perhaps  because  they  are  academical,  and 
work  by  rule  and  not  by  inspiration  of  religious  de- 
votion. 

The  floors  were  paved  with  a  mosaic  of  brick,  and 
there  were  gilded  chairs,  some  of  blue  damask  and 
some  of  crimson  velvet,  and  tables  of  ormulu,  with 
marble  tops,  arranged  in  straight  rows  round  the 
-  different  saloons ;  but  all  the  furniture  was  faded 
and  defaced.  Every  ceiling  was  frescoed — as  is  the 
invariable  habit  of  ceilings  in  Rome — where  every 
available  surface  is  emblazoned  with  color,  in 
flowers,  saints,  and  angels,  and,  once  in  the  ages, 
with  an  Aurora,  by  Guido. 

But  it  was  very  cold  in  the  stone  house,  and  we 


232  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

returned  to  tlie  warm  sunny  garden,  and  looked  ai 
the  marbles  standing  about  there. 

When  we  first  arrived,  we  saw  the  Bospigliosi 
children,  tvi^o  of  whom  were  playing  with  their  at- 
tendants in  the  avenues.  One  was  followed  by  a 
liveried  servant  and  a  maid,  and  the  other  was  in 
the  arms  of  an  old  nurse,  and  both  were  entirely  in 
white  ("  devoues  au  Uanc"),  like  all  the  j-ounger  chil- 
dren of  noble  families  in  Italy.  When  we  came 
out  of  the  Casino,  the  infant  was  asleep,  and  I  went 
to  look  at  him  as  he  lay  on  his  nurse's  lap.  He  was 
lovely — the  long  dark  lashes  of  his  closed  eyes  rest- 
ing on  cheeks  like  rose-petals — a  cherry  mouth, 
shaped  like  Cupid's  bow,  soft-brown  hair  on  a 
noble  brow,  and  a  cunning  little  straight  nose. 
Such  heads  and  faces  the  painters  paint  for  cherubs 
and  angels,  hovering  around  Madonnas  and  holy 
people,  of  all  kinds.  The  woman  sat  in  the  sun 
(like  Queen  Anne),  while  the  baby-prince  slept 
peacefully  in  the  flower-scented  air,  to  the  tune  of  a 
fountain  in  a  niche,  near  by.  It  was  a  stately  and 
elysian  scene,  that  I  shall  like  to  recall  hereafter. 

Santa  Andeea. 

The  Palace  of  the  Consulta  makes  one  side  of  the 
piazza  of  the  Monte  Cavallo.  This  summit  of  the 
Quirinal  is  a  grand  site,  commanding  one  of  the 
finest  views  of  Rome  and  St.  Peter's.  On  our  way 
home,    we   followed    two   gentlemen    into   a   small 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  223 

churcli  on  tlie  Via  Quirinalis,  and  found  it  a  perfect 
jewel  of  beauty.  It  was  Santa  Andrea.  It  is 
oval  inside,  and  surrounded  with  columns,  and 
chapels  that  are  encrusted  all  over  with  every  vari- 
ety of  marble,  and  illustrated  with  oil  paintings — 
three  in.  each  chapel.  In  the  first,  on  the  right,  is  a 
cojDy  of  Correggio's  Nativity,  in  which  the  light 
comes  from  the  child,  irradiating  the  Madonna  with 
white  effulgence,  and  dazzKng  all  who  stand  near. 
In  the  chapel  of  St.  Stanislaus  is  a  sarcophagus  of 
lapis-lazuli,  adorned  with  sapphires,  emeralds,  ame- 
thysts, and  chrysolites — and  before  it,  suspended  in 
a  gold  setting,  is  a  vast  ruby  or  carbuncle,  perhaps 
"  The  great  Carbuncle"  itself.  Was  the  sarcopha- 
gus made  in  Ormus  or  in  Ind,  I  wonder  ? 

The  floor  of  the  little  temple  is  a  mosaic,  in  the 
form  of  a  star,  the  rays  extending  to  the  outer  circum- 
ference. Those  who  enter  to  worship  stand  upon  a 
star  !  What  an  appropriate  pavement  for  a  church  ! 
Over  the  centre  is  a  dome,  surmounting  the  dome- 
Hke  interior,  and  a  garland  of  white  cherubs  encircles 
its  base.  In  designing  this  building,  Bernini  cer- 
tainly redeemed  himself,  in  some  measure,  from  the 
disgrace  of  his  ranting,  stormy  statues,  though  I 
rather  think  the  Prince  Camillo  Pamfili's  taste  con-^ 
trolled  him  here  in  his  fancies,  since  it  was  at  the 
Prince's  cost  that  the  church  was  built.  To-day  we 
have  indeed  had  an  "  emharras  de  richesses.'' 


224  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Museum  of  the  Capitol. 

February  22d  (Wasliiiigton's  Birth-day). — Oni 
celebration  of  this  fortunaie  day  was  to  go  to  tlie 
Museum  of  the  Capitol.  We  saw  tlie  Dying  Gladi- 
ator, the  Antinous,  the  Amazon,  the  Faun  of  Prax- 
iteles, the  wonderful  Centaurs,  busts  of  all  the  Em- 
perors and  Empresses,  and  other  illustrious  people  ; 
and  in  the  Hall  of  the  Emperors,  the  antique  bas- 
relief  of  Endymion,  of  which  I  once  made  a  copy  in 
oils.  It  was  deeply  interesting  to  me  to  see  the  very 
original  of  my  picture,  and  to  be  able  to  compare  it 
with  the  water-color  painting  from  which  I  copied  it. 
The  right  hand  is  broken  in  the  marble,  and  so  the 
lovely  one,  so  heavy  with  sleep,  in  the  water-color 
drawing,  must  have  been  the  creation  of  the  modern 
artist.  If  so,  it  is  a  wonderful  work,  but  I  cannot 
nelp  thinking  that  the  marble  might  have  been  in- 
jured after  the  drawing  was  made.  In  the  same 
hall  is  the  celebrated  sitting  statue  of  Agrippina, 
with  small,  delicate  head  and  features — a  perfectly 
chiselled  profile,  just  barely  escaping  sharpness — 
and  great  ease,  dignity,  and  grace  of  attitude. 
Agrippina  was  wife  of  the  good  Germ  aniens,  and 
mother  of  the  wicked  Caligula,  both  of  whom  are 
near  her,  one  beautiful,  and  the  other  the  most  evil 
looking  of  all  men.  The  Julius  Ctesar  I  cannot  be- 
lieve in,  for  it  is  too  uncomely,  mere  driving  action 
and  will — not  grand  nor  intellectual.  Next  him  is 
Augustus,  perfectly  handsome,  and  like  his  youthful 


BOMAW  JOURNAL.  225 

self,  with  the  exception  of  two  deep  hnes  of  care  on 
his  once  deep  brow.  "  The  yonng  Augustus"  is 
considered  the  most  exquisite  bust  in  the  world.  As 
yet  I  have  seen  only  casts  of  it,  not  having  been  to 
the  Yatican  ;  but  this  mouth  is  as  ideal  in  faultless 
beauty  as  a  mouth  can  be,  but  there  is  more  expe- 
rience in  this  of  the  man,  more  strength  too,  and 
finesse  than  in  that  of  the  boy.  It  is  very  satisfac- 
tory to  identify  illustrious  individuals  in  this  v/ay, 
tracing  them  from  j'^outh  to  manhood.  I  have  now 
seen  Octavianus  face  to  face,  and  also  Marcus  Au- 
relius.  There  are  a  great  many  busts  of  these  last, 
all  resembling  each  other,  and  a  most  noble  head 
and  countenance  he  has.  The  marbles  in  the  Capi- 
tol, and  the  head  of  the  bronze  equestrian  statue  in 
the  Piazza,  are  of  the  same  man.  I  had  an  impetu- 
ous desire  to  see  Commodus,  because  De  Quincey 
speaks  of  his  marvellous  beauty.  I  found  him  of 
fair  symmetry  of  feature,  and  I  do  not  think  I  should 
prophesy  a  monster  from  his  expression  ;  yet  there 
is  nothing  high  and  pure  in  his  look,  and  I  believe 
there  is  the  shadow  of  a  frown  somewhere  about  his 
face  ;  but  I  have  not  half  seen  either  of  them.  I 
shall  go  and  become  well  acquainted  with  all  these 
potentates,  who  ruled  the  world,  but  not  themselves. 
The  Dying  Gladiator  cannot  be  seen  in  one,  nor  in 
many  visits,  3-et  even  in  the  little  while  I  looked  at 
it  to-day,  I  began  to  feel  its  irresistible  power,  and  I 
foresee  that  I  shall  think  it  one  of  the  greatest  of 
all  sculptures,  more  and  more.     The  Antinous  is 

10* 


236  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

consummate  mortal  beauty.  I  do  not  conceive  tliat 
any  liuman  form  can  surpass  it.  It  satisfies  all  my 
dreams  of  it,  even  already.  The  Amazon  is  superb, 
and  the  Lycian  Apollo  is  music.  There  were  some 
magnificent  sarcophagi,  with  high  reliefs — one  the 
history  of  Achilles,  one  Diana  and  Endymion,  one 
the  battle  of  the  Amazons  ;  and  each  one  the  labor 
of  a  lifetime.  The  walls  of  these  saloons  are  covered 
with  inscriptions  on  marble,  inserted  into  the  stone 
— relics  found  all  about  Rome.  The  famous  Venus 
of  the  Capitol  is  not  seen  on  public  days  ;  but  is 
kept  in  a  reserved  cabinet,  to  be  shown  only  by  spe- 
cial request.  We  glanced  through  a  grate  into  the 
hall  of  bronzes,  where  I  saw  the  Avorld-renowned 
mosaic  of  Pliny's  doves,  which  has  been  repeated 
for  centuries  in  cameos,  mosaics,  and  enamels.  On 
the  staircase  walls  are  deeply  interesting  bits  of 
marble  inlaid,  covered  with  the  groimd-plan  of  the 
city  in  early  times,  and  thus  revealing  the  site  and 
relation  of  temples,  forums,  and  porticoes.  It  was 
found  near  the  Forum  Komanum,  in  broken  pieces. 
I  wish  it  had  been  all  matched,  so  as  to  be  a  clear 
map,  instead  of  being  stuck  up,  as  it  is,  in  sixteen 
separate  bits.     It  is  called  the  Pianta  Capitolina, 

The  Mamertine  Prison. 

After  leaving  the  Museum,  we  went  into  the  Ma- 
mertine prison.  This  is  one  of  the  few  remaining 
structures  of   the   Kingly  Period.     We  went   down 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  227 

into  the  cell  wliere  Jugurtlia  was  starved  to  death, 
and  Avhere  St.  Peter  was  chained.     Prisoners  were 
let  through  openings  in  the  ceiling.     It  is  a  terrific 
dungeon,  but  now  very  clean,  and  now  also  there 
are  stairs  for  visitors  to  descend  comfortably.     But 
the  true  way  to  show  it,  and  give  one  a  due  sense  of 
its  horror  and  miserj^,  would  be  to  be  lowered  into 
it,   as  the  prisoners  were,   through   the    trap-door, 
with  a  shuddering  sense  that  hope  was  left  behind, 
unless,   by  human    aid,   deliverance   should   come. 
There  was  very  little  room  there.     I  reall}^  think  a 
man  might  at  least  be  allowed  room  enough,  if  he 
must  be  confined  in  a  dungeon.     That  is  enough, 
without  a  refinement  of  cruelty.     We  drank  of  the 
miraculous  fountain,  which  sprang  up  for  St.  Peter 
to  baptize  his  keepers  with.     We  saw  the  stone  col- 
umn to  which  he  Avas  chained.     The  prison  is  of 
enormous  strength,  a  true  Etruscan  work,  of  huge 
square  blocks  of  stone.     On  the  floor  upon  which 
we  stood,  the  Catiline  conspirators  were  strangled. 
It  was  astonishing  to  find  myself  in  the  very  spot 
upon  which  St.  Peter  stood  !    It  Avas  a  den  for  State 
criminals  only.     In  the  apartment  above  St.  Peter's 
cell,  and  equally  dark  and  strong,  is  an  altar,  and 
the  marble  busts  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  enclosed 
in  an  iron  grate,  carved  in  the  time  of  Constantine. 
The  guide  showed  us  the  walled-up,  ancient  stair- 
case that  led  to  these  cells  from  the  Capitol,  by  a 
secret  way— the    way    along  which    the    stranglers 
came.     It  made  me  faint  to  think  how  utterly  im- 


228  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

possible  it  would  be  to  escape.  It  would  be  as  easj 
to  tear  asunder  a  mountain  as  to  break  through 
these  ponderous  stones.  I  hope  St.  Peter  was  al- 
lowed a  torch.  O  wonderful  revolution  !  He  who 
was  chained  and  martyred  then,  now  rules  Christen- 
dom from  the  throne  of  the  most  magnificent  Ca- 
thedral in  the  world,  and  a  hundred  ever-burning 
lamps  watch  round  his  sacred  grave,  under  the  high 
altar,  like  so  many  sleepless  eyes  of  seraphs.  He 
who  was  in  black  darkness  has  light  enough  now, 
and  having  died  for  his  Lord  Jesus,  he  has  found 
his  life,  which  he  can  never  lose  again. 

The  Foeum  Eomanum. 

We  went  io  the  Forum  afterward,  and  I  remained 
alone  there  to  wander  about.  It  is  the  first  time  I 
have  had  a  chance  to  loiter  round  the  chief  seat  of 
Koman  grandeur.  "What  a  dream  of  unexampled 
beauty  must  it  have  been,  when  the  white  and  violet 
marble  temples,  porticoes,  and  richly  sculptured 
arches  stood  in  all  their  freshness  !  From  the  Tabula- 
rium  of  the  Capitol  what  a  vision  of  splendor  must 
have  then  dazzled  the  fortunate  eyes  that  looked  forth 
over  the  vale  between  the  Capitoline  and  the  Pala- 
tine hills  !  Directly  beneath  and  before  me  (had  I 
been  that  happ}^  gazer),  the  pure  white  Temple  of 
Concord,  where  the  illustrious  Senate  assembled — 
the  Conscript  fathers  we  so  worship  in  our  young 
academic  days — lifted  its  glorious  beauty  into  the 


ROMAN  JOUBJSTAL.  226 

suun}^  air,  I  knoAv  it  was  glorious  ;  for  I  saw  to-day 
the  bases  of  its  columns  in  the  Museum,  and  the 
sculpture  upon  them  was  elaborately  perfect,  and 
as  fine  as  the  cutting  of  a  cameo.  It  has  now  ut- 
terly gone  from  its  site,  except  a  portion  of  its  pave- 
ment. Close  beside  the  Temple  of  Concord  was 
that  of  Vespasian,  of  which  three  lovely  columns, 
with  an  entablature,  alone  remain,  richly  orna- 
mented ;  and  this  temple  was  jDurple,  as  if  cut  out 
of  an  amethj'st — the  Temple  of  Concord  a  pearl; 
the  Temple  of  Yespasian  an  amethyst.  Near  these 
stood  the  Schola  Xantha,  of  which  eight  elegant  little 
pillars,  of  the  most  delicate  grace,  now  survive.  It 
was  a  portico,  where  the  twelve  consenting  Gods 
{Dii  consentes)  were  placed ;  and  along  by  all  these 
visible  dreams  ran  the  Clivus  Capitolinus,  leading 
down  from  tlie  Capitol  on  the  right,  and  on  one  side 
of  it  was  the  Temple  of  Saturn.  Eight  columns,  of 
the  Ionic  order,  still  are  left  of  it.  Directly  in  front 
of  the  Temple  of  Concord  -is-the  Arch  of  Septimius 
Severus ;  but  then  its  present  defaced  and  stained 
marble  was  white  as  snow,  and  its  reliefs  perfect,  and 
on  its  summit  was  a  bronze  chariot  and  prancing 
horses.  How  my  vision  grows  !  On  the  left  of  this 
arch,  I  can  see  with  my  past- world  eyes  the  magnifi- 
/cent  Forum  of  Augustus,  with  its  group  of  stately 
temples  and  porticoes,  of  which  I  perceive,  at  this 
moment,  a  ruin  of  grandest  style  and  form.  It  is 
the  Temple  of  Mars  Ultor.  The  lofty  columns  of 
one  of  the  peristyles  attest  the  perfection  of  this 


2G0  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

work  of  Augustus.  But  I  now  look  down  upon  the 
Forum  Komanum  only,  and  I  see  the  marble  statues 
of  Curtius  and  of  one  of  the  Emperors,  standing  in 
the  midst,  and,  beyond  them,  the  temple  and  ros- 
tra of  Julius  Csesar,  in  front  of  which  he  sits  and 
receiyes  the  senators,  as  they  go  to  bring  him  to  ac- 
count for  offending  the  Roman  people.  The  populus 
B/Omanus !  what  words  are  those  to  pronounce  here  ! 
Fancy  that  majestic,  grave  procession  winding  down 
from  the  Temple  of  Concord,  in  white  robes  of  fine 
samite,  bordered  with  purple,  through  the  Clivus 
CajDitolinus,  to  call  to  judgment  the  Dictator  of  the 
World ! 

By  Csesar's  temple  passes  the  Sacra  Yia,  OYcr 
which  3'oung  Yirginia  "  danced  along"  and  the  "  vul- 
ture eye"  of  Appius  Claudius  "  pursued  the  trip  of 
those  small,  glancing  feet."  On  the  sides  of  it  I 
see  Julia's  Basilica,  with  its  hundred  and  twenty 
columns  (now  vanished,  except  its  pavement) ;  and 
beyond  rises  another  splendor,  "like  another  sun 
rising  at  mid-noon,"  the  temple  of  Minerva  Chalci- 
dica,  Avhose  ruins  are  the  models  of  architects — its 
three  Corinthian  columns  the  most  consummate 
specimens  of  their  order.  Farther  to  the  right  an- 
other marble  flower  blossoms,  called  the  Temple  of 
Castor  and  Pollux,  while  at  the  end  of  the  Sacra  Via 
the  arch  of  Fabius  frames  a  distant  picture,  made 
up  of  turquoise  sky  and  emerald  Coelian  hill ;  and 
farther  on,  the  arch  of  Titus  encloses  another  land- 
scape of  its  own.     Through  this  I  perceive,  coming 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  231 

on,  the  triumpli  of  Titus^  after  his  conquest  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  behold,  glittering  in  the  sun,  the  sacred 
■  seven-branched  candlestick  of  massive  gold,  borne 
by  the  procession,  and  the  silver  trumpets  of  Judah 
and  the  golden  table  from  the  Temple  of  temples,  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem.  And  here  is  the  Emperor  in 
his  car,  with  four  proudly-stepping  horses,  sur- 
rounded by  the  bearers  of  the  fasces,  and  crowned 
by  Victory.  On  the  left  is  another  tuneful  temple, 
that  of  Antoninus  and  Faustina,  with  its  richly- 
sculptured  frieze,  crisp  to  this  hour,  and  its  peristyle, 
yet  complete  ;  and  nearer  to  where  I  stand,  the 
Basilica  Emilia,  shorn  now  of  its  glory  of  columns 
and  pediment.  Beyond,  in  a  loftier  strain,  the  vast 
Temple  of  Peace  cuts  its  arches  against  the  tender 
blue ;  and  farther  still,  the  most  stupendous  ruin  of 
the  world — the  mighty  circle  of  the  Coliseum — 
crowns  m}^  view.  But  even  this  is  not  all.  On  my 
right  is  the  Palatine,  and  I  see  it  shining  with  Nero's 
golden  house — the  palace  oj  the  Csesars,  like  a 
gorgeous  oriental  sunset,  with  its  colored  marbles, 
its  gems  and  precious  metals.  What  a  scene,  in- 
deed! And  if  the  Capitol  and  piles  of  modern 
buildings  did  not  hide  it,  I  should  see  Trajan's  Fo- 
rum on  the  left  and  behind,  with  its  noble  column, 
covered  with  a  spiral  band  of  delicately-cut  bas- 
reliefs,  still  perfect. 

I  tried  to  go  down  upon  the  pavement  of  the  Ba- 
silica of  Julia,  but  sought  in  vain  for  steps  or  an 
opening  ;  and  when  it  was  too  late,  a  man  came  to 


232  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

unlock  an  iron  door  for  me.  It  is  new  to  me  to  find 
that  all  works  of  art  liere  are  Greek,  and  not  Koman. 
The  Romans  were  the  employers  of  all  men's  hands, 
but  did  not  work  with  their  own,  and  the  tens  of 
thousands  of  slaves  they  brought  to  Home  quarried 
these  enormous  stones  and  polished  the  adamant, 
at  their  behest,  and  carved  the  statues  and  the  re- 
lievos. Then  it  is  necessary  to  suffer  to  j)^^oduce 
beauty  as  well  as  to  be  beautiful.  Alas  for  the 
blood  and  toil  and  misery  and  crime  out  of  which 
these  glories  sprang  !  And  they  would  have  utterly 
perished  long  ago,  if  the  Cross  had  not  been  affixed 
to  every  relic  of  Heathen  Rome  which  remains  for 
us.  !Pour  great  palaces  have  alread}^  been  built  out 
of  the  Coliseum,  and  a  dozen  more  would  have  been 
pulled  out  of  it,  if  the  Cross  had  not  been  set  up  in 
the  arena,  where  unspeakable  atrocities  once  amused 
assembled  thousands.  So  in  the  amphitheatre's 
headlong  fall,  that  potent  emblem — so  potent  in 
spirit,  so  weak  in  substance — upholds  the  giant  walls, 
which  cannot  come  down,  except  by  violence  of  man  ; 
and  instead  of  dying  gladiators  and  wild  beasts, 
tearing  and  torn,  a  tall,  black  cross  rises  in  the 
midst,  and  pious  folk  go  and  kiss  it,  to  win  in- 
dulgence from  Purgatory — for  each  kiss  two  hundred 
days. 

I  tried  to  come  home  a  new  way,  and  was  conse- 
quently misled,  and  strayed  into  the  Piazza  of  the 
Holy  Apostles,  where  the  great  Palazzo  Colonna 
stands.     Then  I  found  myself  at  the   fountain    of 


ROMAN  JO  URNAL.  23? 

Trevi,  and  by  degrees  arrived  at  the  Pincian  liill ; 
and  Mr.  Louis  Eakermann  played  Beethoven  to  iis 
all  the  evening. 

February  23d. — This  morning  I  v^ent,  according 
to  agreement,  to  show  Miss  M.  M.  the  temple  of 
Mars  Ultor.  We  looked  with  wonder  at  the  stu- 
pendous blocks  of  stone  of  the  wall  of  the  Forum, 
against  which  the  building  stands.  It  is  evidently 
Etruscan  work.  Evervthino-  here  is  either  Etruscan 
or  Grecian.  Lately,  these  columns  have  been  cleared 
to  their  bases,  very  far  below  the  street  that  runs  by 
them.  Madame  de  Stael  says  modern  Borne  is  forty 
feet  above  ancient  Eonie.  This  accumulation  of  soil 
is  caused  hj  the  frequent  inundations  of  the  Tiber. 
Five  times  in  the  course  of  a  century  the  city  was 
overflowed  even  to  the  top  of  the  hills,  though  not 
over  them ;  and  so,  holding  the  earth  in  solution, 
as  it  were,  I  suppose  it  settled  down  again  more 
equall}^     But  I  know  nothing  about  it. 

As  we  came  along  the  Corso,  we  went  into  the 
Palazzo  Doria,  because  it  is  one  of  the  two  days  in 
the  week  when  visitors  are  admitted  to  the  gallery. 
But  we  had  but  an  hour,  and  only  expected  to  see 
what  treasures  were  in  store  for  us  at  another  time. 
We  found  the  palace  exceedingly  splendid.  We 
walked  through  fifteen  saloons,  whose  walls  were 
covered  with  pictures,  some  of  them  very  choice, 
besides  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of  beautiful 
Greek  statuary.     Every  great  name  in  art  was  rep- 


334  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

resented  by  some  work.  Claude's  two  famous  land 
scapes,  the  Molino  and  tlie  Temple  of  Apollo; — ■ 
Titian's  Sacrifice  of  Abraham  ; — a  superb  portrait, 
by  Leonardo  da  Yinci,  of  Joanna  of  Aragon  (a  love- 
lier aspect  of  her  face  than  Raphael  has  given)  \ — 
a  portrait  of  Lucrezia  Borgia,  by  Paul  Veronese  ; — 
the  lovely  Madonna  of  Guido,  adoring  the  Infant ; — 
and  Claude's  celebrated  Flight  into  Egypt,  with 
Lippi's  figures.  There  is  also  a  grand  picture,  by 
Sebastian  del  Piombo,  of  the  Admiral  Andrea  Doria, 
grave  and  stately,  like  all  Piombo's  portraits.  He 
must  have  chosen  persons  of  such  character  to 
paint.  In  one  of  the  cabinets  is  a  noble  marble 
bust  of  the  Admiral,  and  one  of  the  Princess  Mary 
Talbot  Doria  (the  English  lady),  by  Tenerani,  which 
is  very  beautiful.  The  present  prince  is  eminently 
handsome,  as  a  bust  of  him  testified ;  with  arched 
brows,  quite  ideal  in  beaut3^  His  nose  is  a  very 
little  too  pointed,  which  saves  the  face  from  being 
perfect.  Upon  a  table  stood  a  head,  in  white  mar- 
ble, with  a  colored  marble  robe,  and  a  veil.  It  is 
exquisitely  lovely,  but  I  do  not  know  who  it  is,  nor 
who  was  the  sculptor.  The  Palace  has  an  inner 
court,  with  green  shrubbery  and  flowers,  and  a  fine 
arcade  of  columns  entirely  round  it. 

The  Boeghese  Gallery. 

February  25th. — This  morning  there  was  a  cruel; 
murderous  wind ;  but  it  did  not  rain,  and  we  went  to 


EOMAI{  JOURNAL.  235 

the  Palazzo  Borghese.  The  gallery  is  very  superb, 
far  more  so  tlian  that  of  the  Doria.  I  looked  at 
every  one  of  the  eight  hundred  pictures,  in  twelve 
rooms,  and  at  some  of  them  carefully,  and  I  was 
diligently  employed  three  hours  and  a  half — and  yet 
I  have  merely  introduced  myself.  I  recall,  first, 
Baphael's  "  Entombment."  I  congratulate  myself 
that  I  have  travelled  to  Rome  from  America,  if  only 
to  see  such  a  consummate  work  of  genius,  conceived 
and  executed  at  twenty-four  years  of  age,  I  think 
I  felt  the  pre-eminence  of  Eaphael  first  to-day. 
Beauty,  force,  grace,  expression^  color,  all  were  ex- 
celling. The  life,  energy,  and  vividness  of  the  figures 
who  uphold  Christ  are  in  striking  contrast  with  his 
dead  body,  the  limbs  so  stiff  and  pale.  His  sacred 
body  rests  upon  a  linen  mantle,  which  two  3'oung 
men  support,  each  with  both  hands,  and  with  an 
appearance  of  great  effort,  as  if  Death  were  very, 
very  heavy.  This  group  is  at  the  left.  The  youth 
who  is  at  the  feet  of  Christ  has  a  most  graceful 
form.  His  limbs  are  so  light,  I  thought  it  an  im- 
ponderable angel  at  first.  The  face  of  the  other 
bearer  is  very  handsome,  and  painted  so  marvel- 
lously, with  such  perfection  in  every  way,  that  I  can 
conceive  of  nothing  superior  to  it  in  execution.  It 
has  the  rich,  full,  soft  forms  and  hues  of  life  itself. 
By  his  side  stand  two  of  the  apostles,  Peter  and 
John,  I  should  think.  Mary  Magdalen  is  also  near ; 
and  on  the  right  is  another  group.  Mary,  the 
Mother,  has  fainted  c[uite,  in  the  arms  of  several 


236  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

women.  One  of  these  is  young,  and  of  surpassing 
beauty.  Mary's  face  is  noble.  But  I  feel  helpless 
to  express  ni}^  sense  of  this  miracle  of  art.  I  wish  I 
could  see  it  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  Raphael's  por- 
trait by  himself,  in  early  youth,  is  in  the  same  room, 
I  believe.  Another  great  picture  is  the  Chase  of 
Diana,  hj  Domenichino.  Diana  is  awarding  a  prize 
to  one  of  her  nymphs.  Lovely  maidens  are  grouped 
all  about.  A  wreath  of  three  is  rejoicing  over  the 
flight  of  an  arrow  just  sped  by  one,  while  a  bouquet 
of  two  is  looking  on  with  animated  faces.  Diana,  in 
the  centre,  stands  eminent,  with  arms  uplifted  over 
her  head,  and  limbs  elastic  and  swift  for  the  chase. 
Two  children  are  Ij'ing  in  the  water  in  the  fore- 
ground, taking  the /resco  and  the  dolce  far  niente; 
as  if  all  work  were  over  in  the  world.  The  picture 
overflows  with  bounding,  eager,  rosy,  pure  life, 
splendid  as  morning ;  and  the  children  balance  the 
quiet  sky,  in  their  pause  from  play. 

A  young  artist  was  copying  one  of  the  groups, 
and  his  easel  was  much  in  my  ^vay.  He  had  not 
succeeded  in  getting  a  single  face  right ;  but  the 
neck  and  bosom  of  the  archeress  who  had  shot  the 
arrow  was  beautifully  painted.  Domenichino's 
celebrated  Cumasan  Sibj'l  is  here  also.  I  saw  a 
copy  of  it  in  Mr.  George  Peabody's  house  long  ago; 
but  though  I  knew  that  the  original  v^^as  superb,  I 
must  see  it  often  to  appreciate  all  its  merits,  and  it 
certainly  did  not  fasten  me  as  long  as  ihe  other 
masterpieces.     Caesar  Borgia's  portrait,  by  Raphaelj 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  237 

fixed  me  much  longer.  It  is  deeply  interesting,  and 
so  excessively  handsome,  that,  at  the  first  glance,  I 
said  to  myself,  "  What,  is  that  the  monster  of  hu- 
manity?" For  his  figure  is  stately,  graceful,  and 
commanding,  and  his  head  turns  upon  his  shoulders 
in  a  princely  way,  and  his  features  are  high  and 
perfectly  chiselled.  A  light  bonnet  and  floating 
feather  give  him  a  chivalric,  gallant  air.  But  soon 
one  discovers  that  out  of  the  fine  sculpture  of  form 
and  face  looks  a  cold,  dark,  cruel,  and  vindictive 
soul.  The  black  eyes  are  esjoeciallj^  terrible.  They 
do  not  send  forth  any  beams,  but  are  introspective, 
secret  and  evil.  They  reminded  me  of  the  eyes  of 
the  sullen  vulture  in  the  Zoological  Gardens  in  Lon- 
don, who  sits  on  his  perch,  and  looks  vicious  and 
designing,  and  above  all,  cold  and  indifferent.  No 
human,  kindly  warmth  seems  ever  to  have  made 
genial  the  heart  of  Csesar  Borgia.  The  curved  lips 
are  closed  firmly,  with  an  immutable  fixedness  of 
fell  purpose.  He  has  ceased-to  be  aware  that  there 
is  a  conscience,  and  there  is  no  longer  any  tender 
sensibility  in  him  to  suggest  to  himself  that  he  is  a 
monster.  He  has  left  the  circle  of  human  brother- 
hood, and  made  a  compact  wdth  the  Son  of  the 
Morning,  beautiful  once  like  himself,  but  fallen, 
fallen  nov/.  He  really  seems  never  to  have  dreamed 
of  good,  and  therefore  to  be  unaware  that  he  has 
departed  from  it.  How  true  was  Raphael !  How 
could  he  bear  to  study  and  dwell  upon  such  a  coun- 
tenance, and  then  render  it  so  sincerely,  as  to  create 


238  NOTES  IF  ITALY. 

another  CsBsar  Borgia,  to  live  during  the  world's 
forever  ?  It  is  impossible  to  compass  the  versatile 
power  of  Eaphael,  who  was  greatest  in  whatever  he 
undertook. 

Close  by  this  is  Gnilio  Eomano's  copy  of  Eaphael's 
portrait  of  Julius  II.,  of  which  there  is  an  original 
in  the  National  Gallery  in  London,  where  I  became 
well  acquainted  vv^ith  it.  It  is  in  great  contrast  with 
Caesar  Borgia.  He  looks  venerable,  of  extraordinary 
intellect  and  indomitable  will,  grand,  and  firm  as  a 
rock,  with  musing  eyes.  He  seems  sculptured  out 
of  a  rock  in  attitude,  but  the  rich  hues  of  life  burn 
like  fire  in  his  fine  countenance — in  Raphael's  pic- 
ture. One  is  never  weary  of  this  masterpiece.  I 
believe  it  is  considered  the  greatest  portrait  in  the 
world.  This  of  Guilio  Romano,  though  very  splen- 
did, has  not  the  strength  in  the  mouth  that  Raphael's 
has,  and  the  artist  who  was  copying  it  to-day  failed 
still  more  in  the  same  feature,  so  that  the  magnifi- 
cent Pontifex  Maximus  looked  like  an  old  lady  of 
benignant  disposition,  but  not  like  the  Julius  whose 
will  was  the  law  of  all  around  him.  He  is  so  still ; 
yet  so  filled  with  latent  motion,  pov^^erful  enough  to 
overturn  worlds,  that  he  reminds  one  of  a  lion  at 
rest,  but  not  slumbering — oh  no, — watching,  con- 
sidering, haughtily  read3^  If  we  had  seen  the  living 
Julius,  we  could  not  possibly  have  known  him  so 
perfectly  as  by  studying  this  "  presentment." 

Tv/o  apostles  or  prophets  or  saints,  by  Michel 
Angelo,  in  his  first  years,  impressed  me  deeply.     It 


EOMAN  JOURNAL.  239 

was  profanely  suggested  that  there  was  something 
of  Bernini  in  the  draperies,  but  I  did  not  agree. 
Grand  and  massive  they  are,  but  not  in  a  whirlwind 
of  passion.  The  attitudes  and  faces  reminded  me 
of  the  prophets  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  as  I  have  seen 
them  in  engravings ;  for  though  I  spent  Ash-Yfed- 
nesday  morning  in  that  chapel,  I  could  not  see  the 
frescoes,  because  of  the  ceremonies  and  the  crowd. 
I  have  yet  to  go  there  and  to  the  Vatican.  To-day 
I  became  acquainted  with  an  artist  altogether  new 
to  me — Garofalo.  He  has  made  himself  immortal 
by  an  angel  I  saw  in  one  of  his  pictures.  In  his 
backward-flowing,  soft  vapor  of  golden  hair  is  caught 
the  sunshine  of  heaven.  I  have  never  seen  such 
celestial  hair  in  life,  so  it  must  be  that  of  an  angel. 
It  is  rolled  away  from  the  pure,  serene  brow  and 
cheek  in  a  radiant,  fleecy  cloud,  and  floats  off  in 
beamy  curls.  The  face  is  entirely  lovely  and  un- 
earthly. The  subject  of  the  painting  is  a  Depo- 
sition, but  I  cannot  recall  the  Test  of  it,  so  completely 
has  the  angel  outshone  everything  else.  There  are 
many  beautiful  works  by  Garofalo,  sincere,  careful 
works,  with  the  devoutness  of  Perugino  and  Francia^ 
but  not  with  their  grace  always.  Francia  is  well 
revealed  in  this  gallery.  Sacred  Madonnas,  mothers^ 
with  tender,  anxious  care  and  noble  expression,  and 
divine  babes  and  holy  saints.  I  think  he  must  have 
been  like  Era  Augelico  in  character,  who  never 
painted  after  the  fire  of  inspiration  went  out,  and 
always  knelt  before  his  easel,  as  if  at  his  prayers. 


2-iO  JS'OTES  m  ITALY. 

I  was  deeply  moved  by  a  Crucifixion,  by  Yandyke, 
one  of  the  few  of  this  subject  that  I  can  look  at.  It' 
is  of  the  noblest  manner.  Titian's  famous  Sacred 
and  Profane  Love  had  no  effect  upon  me  Avhatever 
to-day.  Correggio's  Danae  is  a  work  of  great  fame, 
— ah  me — and  here  are  creations  of  Carlo  Dolce, 
Sasso  Ferrato  (" senza  errore'),  the  Caracci,  Peru- 
gino,  Pinturicchio,  Guercino,  and  all  of  them — and 
by  the  last  a  beautiful  head  of  the  Adolorata,  though 
I  never  like  his  inky  shadows  and  sharp  lights.  It 
must  be  the  richest  gallery  in  Rome,  but  I  have  as 
yet  seen  only  two  others.  There  are  three  frescoes 
by  Raphael  in  the  remotest  room — one  of  a  group 
of  archers,  shooting  at  a  target,  very  renowned  ;  but 
it  was  too  cold  there  to  stay  a  moment,  A  great 
many  people  were  copying — one  an  Englishwoman. 
How  hospitable  are  the  Roman  princes  !  In  almost 
every  saloon  was  a  brazier  of  coals,  to  warm,  at 
least,  the  fingers  of  the  visitors,  who  may  wander  at 
will  before  these  wonders.  Yet  I  see  why  they  must 
feel  under  an  obligation  to  share  the  invaluable 
cliefs  cVoeuvre  of  human  genius,  by  accident  fallen  to 
their  lot,  among  the  world's  best  riches.  One  must 
also  have  sympathy  in  enjoying  things  of  beauty ; 
for  even  a  jewel,  put  away  in  a  shut  casket,  might 
as  well  remain  in  the  depths  of  a  mine.  It  must  be 
worn  for  others  to  see,  if  it  would  be  of  any  worth, 
or  give  true  enjoyment. 

There  is  a  Salutation  by  Rubens,  the  oul}^  one  by 
him  in  the  collection.     Mary's  face  and  expression 


ROMAN  JOTIBNAL.  241 

are  lovelj,  but  lier  figure  is  large  and  fall,  witli 
Dutch  contours,  in  striking  contrast  to  tlie  Italian 
type,  portrayed  in  all  others  that  fill  the  gallery.  A 
portrait  of  Mary  de  Medici,  by  Vandyke,  is  very 
interesting  as  an  authentic  likeness.  We  meet  face 
to  face  here  many  artists— Titian,  Bassano,  Porde- 
none ;  and  there  is  a  portrait  of  Savonarola,  by 
Lippi. 

The  Palace  oe  the  Conservatori. 

March  1st,  Spring. — Yesterday  the  rain  fell  and 
the  wind  blew  all  day,  so  that  we  could  not  go  out 
at  all,  and  another  day  was  lost  in  Rome.  But  this 
morniug  it  brightened,  with  frequent  little  showers, 
and  we  concluded  to  go  to  the  Vatican.  But  the 
Vatican  was  shut,  and  so  we  tried  for  the  Palazzo 
Colonna.  We  found  an  entire  change  in  the  air,  a 
really  spring  daj-.  It  was  soft  and  mild  and  south- 
windy  for  the  first  time  since  vfe  arrived  in  the  city, 
and  also  very  muddy ;  but  when  we  finally  got  to 
the  Palace,  we  could  not  go  in,  because  the  custode 
was  ill ;  and  so  the  Palace  of  the  Conservatori  was 
our  last  resort.  A  stupid  French  soldier  did  not 
know  how  to  tell  us  the  way  into  the  picture-gallery ; 
for  these  small  red-legged  men  do  not  know  any- 
thing whatever.  If  the}'  are  keeping  guard  in  front 
of  a  palace,  they  cannot  even  tell  its  name.  They 
never  move  their  minds,  and  hardly  use  their  eyes. 
They  are  only  machines,  that  carry  guns  and  swords, 

11     • 


343  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

It  is  really  something  like  a  retribntion,  for  power 
abused  and  means  wasted,  that  Imperial  Rome 
should  fall  so  low  as  to  be  watched  and  sentinelled 
by  these  mean-looldng,  ugly,  diminutive  barbarians, 
who  crop  up  at  every  turn,  to  shock  the  vision  that 
is  harvesting  marvels  of  art.  Ptome,  held  in  check 
by  pigmy  Frenchmei:),  causes  a  melancholy,  grim 
smile  that  becomes  almost  a  grimace.  The  only 
words  I  ever  heard  any  one  of  them  utter  were  "  Je 
ne  sais  pas,"  and  this  is  the  exact  amount  of  their 
knowledge.  It  is  sad  to  think  there  are  so  many 
young  men  living  such  an  inane,  monotonous  life — 
stunted  in  form,  but  still  more  in  faculties. 

Not  finding  any  entrance,  we  walked  round  the 
court  and  loggia.  There  we  saw  a  grand  colossal 
statue  of  Julius  Caesar,  the  only  authentic  one.  The 
face  was  younger  than  those  of  the  busts  I  have 
seen,  and  handsomer — not  so  worn  and  careful.  We 
could  not  get  a  good  view  of  the  profile,  because  it 
was  so  high  up.  He  wore  the  gorgeous  dress  of  a 
general — an  Imperator  in  a  martial  sense.  On  the 
other  side  stood  a  colossal  Augustus,  in  the  same 
richly-sculptured  dress  as  that  of  Julius.  In  the 
open  court  a  great  many  precious  wrecks  were 
placed,  enormous  feet  and  hands  of  a  mighty  statue, 
erected  by  Lucullus  to  Apollo  on  the  Capitoline, 
forty-five  feet  high.  These  feet  and  hands  reminded 
me  of  the  Egyptian  red-granite  hand  in  the  British 
Museum.  The  statue  must  have  had  an  Egyptian 
grandeur  in  it.     In  Imperial  times,  architecture  and 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  243 

sculpture  iodk  gigantic  forms.  This  Apollo  responded 
to  tlie  Coliseum.  A  liead  of  Domitian  and  a  head 
and  hand  of  Commodus  are  of  the  same  size.  Per- 
haps I  shall  discover,  by  and  by,  what  stupendous 
temple  or  amphitheatre  these  vast  figures  adorned. 
The  celebrated  group  of  a  horse  attacked  by  a  lion, 
restored  hj  Michel  Angelo,  is  very  powerful  in  ex- 
pression, llichel  Angelo  has  replaced  parts  of  the 
legs  and  hoofs  of  the  horse,  whose  agony  quivers  to 
the  last  fibres  of  its  body. 

The  Arch  of  Constantine,  near  the  Coliseum,  is 
adorned  with  spoils  from  the  Arch  of  Trajan,  now 
destroyed.  Bas-reliefs  were  taken  out-  and  put  into 
Constantine's  Arch  ;  and  the  stately,  mournful  cap- 
tive kings  aud  warriors  of  Dacia,  whom  Trajan 
brought  to  Rome,  stand  upon  its  pilasters,  with 
folded  hands.  To-day  I  saw  another  relic  of  Tra- 
jan's lost  arch.  It  was  a  relief  upon  the  key-stone, 
representing  a  mourning  female  figure,  probably 
Dacia,  and  very  beautiful.  There  were  also  two 
gray-marble  conquered  kings  of  heroic  size,  which 
perchance  also  embellished  the  same  arch.  A  de- 
faced marble  square  block,  called  a  Cippus,  which 
once  held  the  urn  that  contained  the  ashes  of  Agrip- 
pina  (as  an  inscription  now  legible  upon  it  testifies), 
interested  us  extremely.  Why  did  not  the  solid  stone 
shiver  to  atoms  when  the  poison  of  her  dust  touched 
it  ?  Somehow  it  seems  as  if  the  wickedness  of 
these  cultivated,  highly-civilized  Koman  emperors 
and  empresses,  kings  and  princes,  was  more  appal- 


344  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

liiig  aucl  atrocious  than  tlie  sins  of  barbarians— 
tliat  is — of  all  peoples  beside.  It  was  sucli  a  fin- 
ished, conscious,  purposed,  fondled  depravity — so 
delicately  studied  out  often,  so  utterly  without  com- 
punction, that  it  overwhelms  our  apprehension. 
And  I  Avas  so  near  the  fearful  Agrippina  as  to  lay 
my  hand  upon  her  cippus,  once  permeated  by  her 
evil  effluence.  What  have  they  done  with  the  urn 
of  her  ashes  now  ?  I  think  they  ought  to  have 
been  left  in  their  first  place  of  deposit,  and  not  sep- 
arated from  this  ancient  sepulchre.  It  is  a  ]3ity  not 
to  allow  things  to  remain  in  their  original  relations, 
when  it  is  possible — things  of  great  historical  inter- 
est, especially.  It  destroys  the  unity  of  effect  to 
divide  and  scatter  what  belongs  together.* 

Several  columns  of  granite  and  marble  and  a  lofty 
one  of  porphyry,  are  preserved  here.  While  we 
were  looking  at  these  morsels,  an  Italian  guard  ap- 
peared, (how  different  from  a  French  sentinel !)  and 
when  I  asked  him  for  the  gallery  he  directed  us  to 
it  with  genuine  politeness,  for  it  was  a  good  deal  of 
trouble.  We  ascended  a  broad,  marble  staircase, 
wliere  some  statues  and  reliefs  looked  irresistible  ; 
but  we  passed  quickly  on,  till  we  came  to  the  oil 
paintings.  Both  rooms  contain  a  great  many  unfin- 
ished sketches  b}^  Guido,  and  a   finished  head   of 

*  I  am  mistaken  in  having  supposed  this  the  cippus  of  the 
wicked  Agrippina,  daughter  of  Germanicus.  It  was  the  cippus 
of  the  wife  of  Germanicus — who  was  remarkable  for  her  virtuCj 
in  an  age  of  monstrous  depravity. 


nOMAN  JOURNAL.  245 

himself,  b_y  himself,  which  I  gazed  at  with  deey)  in- 
terest. It  is  a  youthful  face,  earnest,  gentle,  and 
full,  with  a  mouth  not  unlike  Raphael's,  but  with 
not  quite  such  a  delicate  and  lordly  curve  as  his. 
In  the  second  room  is  a  St.  Sebastian,  which  I  think 
is  Guido's.  It  has  the  upturned  eyes  he  painted  so 
often,  and  is  of  a  most  winning  sweetness,  and  per- 
fectly finished.  Some  of  his .  sketches,  I  must  say 
it,  looked  like  unbaked  clay,*  so  whity  and  cold.  He 
would  hard!}''  thank  any  one  for  showing  them. 
There  is  a  shadowy  Lucretia  and  a  Cleopatra,  both 
dying  by  their  own  hands,  besides  several  mere  be- 
ginnings. A  Magdalen  is  about  half  painted,  but 
of  noble  expression.  I  should  think  some  one  had 
plundered  his  studio  of  these  pictures,  after  his 
death,  when  he  could  not  keep  them  back. 

There  were  four  or  five  fine  Guercinos — one,  the 
Persian  Sibyl,  a  grand,  sad  face,  without  the  abrupt 
lights  and  shadows  he  fancied  so  much  ;  another  a 
large  composition  of  Augustus  and  Cleopatra,  sj^len- 
did  in  color  and  expression.  The  "  Serpent  of  old 
Nile"  is  imploring  Augustus,  apparently.  She  is  of 
goi'geous  form,  and  is  gorgeously  arrayed.  It  hangs 
in  a  very  bad  hght,  so  that  it  was  nearly  impossible 
to  catch  the  whole  scene  at  once.  His  immense 
picture  of  St.  Petronilla  (copied  in  mosaic  in  St. 
Peter's)  is  also  here  ;  but  I  am  not  much  attracted 
to  this  great  wovk  of  Guercino.     I  see  that  the  dead 


*  I  wish  to  say  doughy  but  it  seems  irreverent. 


240  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

body  of  the  saint  is  very  dead,  and  very,  very  heavy, 
as  is  shown  by  the  efforts  of  those  who  are  lifting 
it  from  her  grave,  to  show  it  to  Flaccus,  her  be- 
trothed. And  tlie  contrast  of  life  around  is  vivid 
and  impressive.  But  I  do  not  appreciate  it  yet,  and 
the  scene  above,  where  she  is  ascended  and  kneeling 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  is  to  me  neither  sublime  nor 
beautiful. 

There  are  some  magnificent  Paul  Yeroneses,  the 
Kape  of  Europa  the  most  so.  All  the  luxury  and 
splendor  of  rich  womanly  beauty  are  in  the  form 
and  face  of  Europa,  who  is  superblj^  arrayed  in  stuffs 
of  silk  and  gold,  shining  with  jewels,  and  brimmed 
witli  the  rapture  that  perfect,  material  well-being 
gives.  It  is  a  glory  of  earthly  felicity,  without  any- 
thing divine  or  etherial  in  it.  The  complete  comeli- 
ness of  the  white  bull — the  large,  soft  eyes  and  mild 
aspect  of  subdued  strength,  with  the  radiant  garland 
of  flowers  across  its  brow,  are  quite  in  harmony,  and 
the  creature  seems  as  high-toned  as  Europa — nor 
more  nor  less.  A  little  Cupid  holds  him  with  a 
slight  wreath,  quite  securely,  and  stands  with  one 
tiny  foot  on  his  leg,  as  if  the  bull  were  a  lamb.  It 
is  a  sumptuous,  glowing  reality — no  dream  nor  vi- 
sion. There  are  velvets,  brocades,  precious  stones, 
and  Europa  is  a  queenly  woman.  The  white  bull  is 
lying  down  in  the  foreground,  and  Europa  sits  upon 
his  back,  while  her  maidens  finish  her  toilet.  One 
is  just  clasping  a  glittering  bracelet  upon  her  shoul- 
der,  and  Cupid  holds  the  slender  reins  till  she  be 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  247 

quite  ready.  Her  eyes  and  liead  are  raised,  aud  a 
little  thrown  back.  On  the  right  some  people  are 
going  off — a  figure  on  horseback,  with  a  brocaded 
mantle,  and  others  walking  by  his  side.  Over  a 
thicket  the  head  of  another  bull,  or  of  a  cow,  is 
thrust  out,  the  eyes  flashing  fury  and  amazement 
(os-eyed  Juno,  perhaps).  I  do  not  recollect  any 
more  of  the  composition.  It  comes  np  to  my  idea 
of  the  great  Venetian  artist.  Europa  is  Venice,  as 
she  was  in  the  days  of  the  Doges,  when  all  her  pal- 
aces were  alight  with  refulgent  life  and  state,  and 
looked  like  jewels  studding  the  rim  of  her  water- 
courses, when  the  air  was  heavy  with  fragrant  sighs 
and  perfumes,  and  delicious  tones  from  harp  and 
dulcimer  overflowed  from  gondola  and  balconj^,  till 
the  senses  could  bear  no  more  enjoj-ment.  This 
was  Venice,  and  it  is  the  Europa  of  Paul  Veronese. 

On  the  same  wall  hangs  his  Madonna  and  St. 
Anna,  surrounded  by  angels.  Mary  sits  in  the  cen- 
tre, and  Anna  stands  behind  with  arms  outstretched 
and  mantle  spread  in  a  kind  of  shielding -love.  I 
cannot  describe  it ;  but  I  do  not  believe  Paul  Vero- 
nese was  a  devout  painter,  though,  in  my  next  visit, 
I  shall  like  to  see  how  he  has  managed  a  whollj^  di- 
vine subject. 

In  the  first  saloon  is  one  of  Perugino's  loveliest 
Madonnas.  It  is  more  entirely  beautiful  in  feature 
than  I  have  yet  seen  by  him,  besides  the  holy  ex- 
pression he  always  gives.  The  oldest  masters  con- 
ceived an  image  of  ideal  maternity  in  their  Madon- 


248  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

nas^sacred,  intent,  tliouglitful,  with  a  shadow  of 
the  worship  of  sorrow,  as  they  hold  the  holy  child 
who  became  "  acquainted  with  grief."  But  this  pe- 
culiar look  of  tender,  anxious  care  is  onl}^  when  the 
infant  is  present.  For  in  the  Annunciations  it  is 
different,  and  to-day  I  saw  an  Annunciation  by  Ga- 
rofalo,  which  surpasses  all  I  have  yet  seen,  even 
Murillo's.  A  young  maiden  is  kneeling,  reading  a 
book,  with  a  lovely,  innocent  face  just  before,  but 
now  made  glorious  b}^  the  sudden  presence  of  the 
angel.  He  has  brought  down  with  him  the  splendor 
of  heaven.  The  airs  of  paradise  wave  back  the 
torrent  of  golden  curls  from  beneath  the  glittering 
fillet  on  his  brov\r,  in  the  rapid  rush  of  his  flight. 
He  seems  dressed  in  rainbows — and  amethysts  and 
rubies  flash  from  his  shining  garments,  fastening 
his  mantle  on  his  breast.  An  immortality  of  prime 
youth  beams  like  a  star  from  his  countenance.  He 
bends  one  knee  as,  with  an  air  of  gentle  majesty, 
he  offers  the  lilies  to  Mary.  He  radiates  such  vivid 
life,  that  he  seems  to  have  this  instant  bent  the 
knee,  and  to  be  just  rising,  also,  to  vanish  from  sight, 
a  prismatic  ray  of  the  aurora  of  Christ's  coming. 
Mary  does  not  raise  her  downcast  lids.  She  has  no 
need  to  look.  She  knows  Gabriel  is  there,  and  she 
is  made  almost  transparent  by  the  brightness  of  his 
glory.  Every  feature  gleams,  like  the  sculptured 
lines  of  an  alabaster  vase,  illuminated  within.  But 
this  is  an  inner,  caused  by  an  outer  light,  or  per- 
haps the   augel  is  passing  into  her  heart ;  for  she 


BOMAN  JO  UBNAL.  34& 

looks  penetrated  with  the  celestial  messenger.  What 
a  picture  is  this,  and  no  one  says  anything  about  it! 

There  is  a  portrait  of  Michel  Angelo  by  himself, 
and  of  Velasquez,  also  by  himself,  very  interesting. 
Now  surely  I  see  Michel  Angelo,  at  last. 

We  saw  the  superb  bas-reliefs  from  Marcus 
Aurelius's  arch,  which  once  stood  in  the  Corso  ;  and 
which  Pope  Alexander  YII.  was  so  barbarous  as  to 
destroy,  in  order  to  widen  the  street.  Had  not  far 
greater  men  theai  he  found  the  street  wide  enough 
before  he  was  ever  thought  of  ? 

Tomb  op  Cecelia  Metella. 

March  3d.—*  *  *  *  *  This  morning  it  was  very 
sunny  and  mild,  and  we  concluded,  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  U — 's  birth-da}^,  that  we  would  take  a 
large  barouche  and  drive  out  on  the  Appian  Way  to 
the  tomb  of  Cecelia  Metella.  We  started  at  half- 
past  eleven  from  our  old  Palazzo  Larazani  on  the 
Pincian,  and  took  the  hill  of  the  Quirinal  and  the 
Corso,  through  the  Forum  Bomanum,  by  the  Coli- 
seum, under  the  Arch  of  Constantino,  and  along  by 
the  Palatine,  piled  up  with  ruin,  and  the  Baths  of 
Caracalla,  a  city  of  tumbling  walls  and  arches,  out 
of  the  Gate  of  St.  Sebastian,  upon  the  Appian  Way. 
Two  miles  beyond  the  gate  is  the  tomb.  Just  with- 
in the  gate  we  passed  under  the  Arch  of  Drusus,  the 
oldest  of  the  arches  now  remaining.  It  has  two 
columns  and  a  little  sculpture  left,  and  is  made  of 


250  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

huge  masses  of  stone  that  might  stand  forever  still 
We  passed  the  door  of  the  tomb  of  the  Scipios,  and 
the  Columbaria,  and  at  last  towered  up  the  Mauso- 
leum. It  is  larger  than  I  supposed,  raised  on  a  high 
substruction,  built  of  square  blocks  of  travertine, 
precisely  fitted,  with  a  cornice  and  a  draped  frieze. 

When  the  Gaetani  took  it  for  a  fortress,  they 
raised  a  battlemented  story  upon  the  original  tomb, 
which  spoils  its  symmetry.  For  a  wide  distance  all 
around  the  extensive  ruins  of  the  outworks  of  this 
fortress  stand  and  fall.  The  custode  was  absent, 
and  we  could  not  go  inside ;  but  we  wandered 
about,  and  walked  along  the  true  Appian  pavement, 
lately  laid  bare  by  Pio  Nono, — composed  of  large 
flat  stones,  more  than  a  foot  long  and  wide.  Whose 
chariots  and  horses  have  passed  this  way?  What 
legions  have  stepped  on  these  very  identical  stones, 
Avith  their  worn  traces,  in  which  I  plant  my  own 
foot  ?  I  see  the  unconquerable  eagles  raised  aloft — 
as  the  solid  phalanx  moves  on  to  crush  the  world — 
I  see  them  return  in  triumph,  and  pause  before  the 
Temple  of  Mars  that  once  stood  hereabout.  Hadrian 
and  the  beautiful  Antinous  passed  over  it — Horace 
and  all  the  poets — the  superb  Zenobia,  in  her  fallen 
estate,  yet  in  eastern  pomp,  came  this  waj^  to  her 
regal  villas.  What  way  in  all  the  earth  is  so  rich  in 
memories  as  this? — and  I  actually  step  upon  it, 
without  any  doubt.     I  thank  the  Pope,  Pio  Nono. 

The  inscription  in  front  of  the  Mausoleum  is  as 
clear  and  distinct  as  if  carved  to-day,  yet  it  was  cut 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  251 

nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  I  believe  the  tomb 
would  have  presented  a  perfectly-  finished  and  fresh 
appearance  to  our  eyes  this  morning,  if  the  repre- 
hensible Popes  had  not  violently  destroyed  a  great 
part,  for  the  sake  of  robbing  it  of  the  slabs  of  fine 
marbles  with  which  it  was  covered ; — and  if  the 
Savellis  and  Gaetanis  had  not  desecrated  it  by  their 
warlike  uses.  Time  could  have  had  no  effect  on 
those  perfectly-hewed  stones  of  travertine,  as  one 
may  see  by  the  crispness  of  those  which  have 
escaped  the  destructive  hand  of  man.  The  beautiful 
frieze'  is  uninjured  nearly  round  the  circle ;  stone 
drapery,  looped  up  by  bulls'  heads.  The  sarcoph- 
agus of  white  marble  that  was  within  the  cham- 
ber is  also  taken '  away  to  adorn  the  court  of  the 
Farnese  Palace,  but  we  could  not  see  even  the  empty 
crypt  to-day. 

The  view  of  Eome,  as  we  turned  back,  Avas  superb. 
St.  Peter's  made  the  highest  point,  and  all  the  lesser 
domes  grouped  themselves  round  it.  The  Sabine 
hills  were  in  a  silver  veil.  The  Campagna  lay  be- 
tween, in  dim  green,  with  ruins  scattered  here  and 
there  over  its  whole  extent. 

We  drove  straight  along  upon  the  Appian  Way  for 
a  little  Avhile,  and  then  turned  to  the  right  to  visit 
the  grove  and  grotto  of  Egeria.  Near  the  spot  is 
the  Temple  of  Virtue  and  Honor,  spoiled  into  an 
iigly  church,  enclosing  in  its  brick  walls  four  lovely 
Corinthian  columns.  We  entered  and  found  a 
vaulted  cella,  with  old  urns  upon  a  ledge  at  the  top 


252  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

of  tliG  straight  sides,  just  at  the  base  of  the  curves, 
and  a  great  deal  of  fresco-painting,  and  figures  in 
stucco.  The  custode  called  it  the  Temple  of  Bac- 
chus. Opposite  the  Temple,  over  a  valley,  and  upon 
an  eminence,  stood  a  shadowy  grove,  called  the 
Sacred  Grove,  and  beyond  the  view  wandered  over 
the  Campagna,  Avhere  the  magnificent  arches  of  the 
Claudian  Aqueduct  looked  like  ruins  of  mighty  tem- 
ples— with  miles  of  colonnades.  And,  farther  still, 
the  silver-veiled  Sabine  Hills  guarded  the  enchanted 
land.  But  as  it  is  now  said  that  this  was  not,  after 
all,  the  true  site  of  Egeria's  grotto,  we  did  not  go  to 
it,  and,  after  plucking  violets  and  lilies,  we  drove 
away,  and  came  to  the  Columbaria  of  the  families  of 
Cpesar  and  Pompey.  These  were  very  curious  and  in- 
teresting, and  have  not  been  excavated  long.  The  first 
we  saw  had  been  found  ten  years  ago,  and  the  other 
three  were  discovered  and  dug  out  by  the  man  who 
now  showed  them  to  us.  There  is  an  avenue  of  ex- 
traordinary cypresses  on  the  hill  near  them — a  truly 
funereal  walk.  We  descended  by  a  narrow,  steep 
flight  of  ancieut  stairs  into  the  one  devoted  to  the 
household  of  Caesar.  It  was  square,  and  very  deep, 
and  the  walls  were  entirely  filled  with  semicircular 
niches,  like  pigeon-holes,  for  the  cinerary  urns,  with 
inscriptions  on  brass  plates  fastened  over  them.  In 
the  urns  were  the  burnt  bones  and  ashes  of  the  dead, 
and  over  each  a  cover  of  red  earthen  substance  was 
placed.  I  took  in  my  hand  the  illustrious  ashes  of 
some   Caesar.     Little  vases  of  food  and  ev/ers  for 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  253 

libations  stood  above.  In  one  niche  was  a  marble 
bust,  and  beneath  the  bust  a  bas-relief,  and  beneath 
that  still,  the  cinerai\y  urn.  This  was  the  bust  and 
these  the  ashes  of  Lucius  Yalerius  Creticus,  b.  c.  67. 
The  proprietor  pointed  out  to  me  the  name  of  the 
usher  of  Caesar's  Court,  the  officer  who  announced 
names  to  the  Emperor.  "  Nomenclator  Keronis"  was 
the  title  of  the  individual,  but  I  forget  his  name. 
The  poor  man  was  probably  brought  to  an  untimely 
urn,  by  announcing  some  one  whom  his  imperial 
majesty  did  not  wish  to  see.  I  should  think  this 
columbarium'  v/ere  forty  feet  deep  and  twenty  in 
diameter.  There  are  thirteen  or  fourteen  rows  of 
semicircular  niches  all  round,  one  above  another. 
In  the  centre  is  a  large  upholding  pier,  also  sur- 
rounded with  niches.  The  narrow  stairway,  and 
very  steep  stairs  with  an  iron  railing  are  on  one  side, 
just  as  firm  and  safe  at  this  moment  as  nearly  two 
thousand  years  ago.  The  grounds  around  are  prob- 
ably full  of  these  wonderful  dove-cotes.  •  [It  is  sad  to 
think  how  far  from  dove-like  were  the  persons  whose 
ashes  filled  the  urns.]  But  how  much  better  is  this 
way  of  disposing  of  the  dead  than  any  other.  What 
the  fire  burns  away  should  not  be  left  to  decay. 
The  piuified  ashes  have  nothing  fearful  nor  repulsive 
in  them,  and  the  living  are  in  this  way  saved  from 
the  miasma  of  inanimate  mortal  substance.  There 
was  but  one  beautiful  marble  urn,  standing  upon  a 
niche ;  all  the  rest  were  hollowed  in  the  stone,  and 
the  covers  only  were  moveable.     Our  guide  uncere- 


254  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

mouiousl}"  removed  the  lid  of  the  incut  urn  of  tlie 
conqueror  of  Orete,  Lucius  Valerius  Creticus,  and 
plunging  in  his  hand,  brought  up  a  quantity  of  cal- 
cined bones  and  ashes,  and  I  was  stupid  not  to  take 
at  least  one  little  bone  of  the  illustrious  dead.  I 
wished  very  much  for  a  fine,  small  marble  medallion 
of  Tiberius,  that  lay  on  the  ledge. 

When  we  had  sufficiently  examined  this,  the  cus- 
tode  desired  us  to  go  down  into  that  of  Pompey's 
household ;  but  we  had  not  time  to  do  more  than 
glance  into  it.  It  was  deeper  than  the  other,  and 
I  think,  had  no  pier ;  and  I  wish  we  could  have  seen 
it,  because  it  has  been  very  lately  brought  to  light — 
only  three  years  ago.  I  saw  another  a  little  way 
off,  cropping  up  like  a  singular  kind  of  plant,  bud- 
ding and  bursting  from  the  soil.  I  suspect  no  vari- 
ety of  produce  could  bring  to  the  farmer  of  this 
campagna-homestead  so  large  an  income  as  the  Co- 
lumbaria. He  looked  really  fat  with  prosperity.  I 
think  the  avenue  of  solemn  old  cypresses  was  the 
ancient  walk  between  two  series  of  tombs,  and  per- 
haps the  households  of  all  the  emperors  were  buried 
in  them.  This  is  a  private  notion  of  my  own.  The 
many  remains  of  marble  columns,  and  capitals,  and 
bas-reliefs  scattered  all  over  the  grounds,  show  that 
these  deep  sepulchres  were  covered  with  little  tem- 
ples or  porticoes.  How  stately,  then,  must  have 
been  the  scene!  At  the  end  of  the  double  row  of 
cypresses,  is  a  kind  of  shrine,  surrounded  by  a  circle 
of  these  tall,  dark,  mourning  trees,  and  within  the 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  255 

circle  is  a  marble  cippiis  or  pedestal.  Perhaps  a 
statue  or  a  superb  urn  stood  upon  it  once  of  some 
very  distinguished  person.  Bordering  the  large 
field  runs  along  the  Claudian  Aqueduct,  whose  lofty 
arches,  when  in  perfect  condition,  must  haye  been 
magnificent  to  see,  though  hardly  more  beautiful 
than  their  ruins  now. 

We  resumed  the  carriage,  and  drove  to  the  tomb 
of  the  Scipios,  still  nearer  home.  A  weird  old  man, 
with  the  nose  of  a  Jew,  and  handsome  features,  all 
worn  to  a  spectre,  unlocked  the  door,  and  we  fol- 
lowed him  into  a  chamber,  where  he  lighted  five 
moccoli,  and  gave  each  of  us  one  (except  E.), 
and  then  he  preceded  us  into  these  ancient  cata- 
combs, where  the  noble  Scipios  were  buried.  "What 
a  procession !  The  weird  old  man  first,  with  his 
torch,  and  we  five  following  with  ours,  and  lighting 
up  the  winding  ways  and  arches  dug  out  of  the 
tufa  and  peperino  rocks.  Once  in  a  while  he  stop- 
ped to  show  us,  by  his  moccolo,  the  inscription  on  a 
marble  tablet  of  the  name  of  an  illustrious  Scipio, 
and  then  Ave  brought  all  our  moccoli  to  bear  upon 
this  point.  Little  E.  kept-  tight  hold  of  my  dress, 
and  seemed  not  at  all  alarmed  at  the  profound  dark- 
ness, that  swallowed  up  our  small  tapers.  U.  en- 
joyed the  adventure  and  the  picturesqueness,  and 
said  it  was  the  best  time-  she  ever  had  in  her 
life.  But  all  the  sarcophagi  have  been  removed. 
That  of  Scipio  Barbatus  is  at  the  Vatican.  It  is  a 
pity  to  take  away  from  their  proper  places  these 


256  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

deeply  interesting  relics,  tliougli  it  ma}-  be  the  best 
way  to  preserve  them.     I  do  not  submit  to  it  at  all, 

however.     J ,  with  his  usual  good  fortune,  found 

outside  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  on  the  steps  lead 
ing  to  the  road,  a  precious  stone,  a  tourmaline, 
covered  with  the  lovely  iridescence  v/hicli  ages  of 
time  cause  upon  vitreous  substances.  Holding  it 
up  to  the  light,  one  can  see  the  peculiar  tint  of  that 
stone — a  green  diiferent  from  any  other.  But  look- 
ing upon  it  in  the  hand,  no  tint  of  green  is  percepti- 
ble, but  only  rainbow,  ever-changing  hues,  like  those 
upon  the  neck  of  a  dove.  The  gem  is  oval,  about 
three-quarters  of  an  inch  long. 

We  then  returned  home,  after  a  charming  excur- 
sion, and  Mr.  Louis  Kakermann  closed  the  birth- 
day with  performing  for  U.  one  of  Beethoven's 
symphonies. 

Now  I  will  go  back  to  yesterday.  When  Vv^e  went 
into  the  Church  of  the  Capuchins,  we  found  a  cur- 
tain drawn  before  the  Chapel  of  Guido's  Archangel, 
and,  peeping  through,  I  saw  a  man  copying  the  pic- 
ture. I  asked  him  whether  v/e  could  go  in,  and  he 
directed  us  to  a  side-door,  opening  from  the  next 
chapel.  The  mosaic  at  St.  Peter's  is  an  admirable 
copy  of  the  original,  but  I  was  glad  to  have  before 
me  the  work  of  Guido's  own  hand.  We  had  just 
seen  the  Beatrice  Cenci,  and  I  think  that  that  and 
this  are  quite  sufficient  to  make  immortal  any  name. 
This  is  of  the  same  order  of  hierarchs  as  Garofalo's 
Announcing  Angel.      There  is  the  same  immortal 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  257 

prime  in  his  face,  youtli  in  essence,  baby-majesty  of 
innocence,  the  freshness  of  the  petal  of  a  rose  just 
bloomed.  And  with  all  this,  there  is  princely  state, 
and  a  lofty  dignity.  It  is  an  nnfallen  form  of  man, 
and  by  this  we  can  see  what  man  has  lost  of  original 
brightness.  How  light  and  poAverful  is  his  descent ! 
He  is  as  imponderable  as  air  and  as  irresistible  as — ■ 
I  was  abont  to  say,  as  a  thunderbolt,  but  I  cannot 
say  it,  for  he  is  not  so  terrible.  "What  is  irresisti- 
ble that  is  so  soft  and  tender  ?  I  can  think  of  noth- 
ing but  light.  He  is  then  as  irresistible  as  light. 
The  armory  of  heaven  seems  to  have  been  ex- 
hausted to  fui^nish  forth  the  splendor  of  his  arra3^ 
His  corselet  is  of  sapphire,  and  identical  with  the 
curves  and  lines  of  the  glorious  form.  A  crimson 
mantle  floats  around  him,  like  the  red  band  in  the 
rainbow  let  loose  for  his  adornment,  a  symbol  of  his 
flaming  love ;  and  from  his  brow  waves  backward 
light  spirals  of  pale  gold  hair.  The  sandals  are 
bound  upon  his  feet  with  lacings  of  azure  and  gold, 
and  fastened  high  with  large  rubies  that  burn  like 
fire.  How  can  any  one  describe  the  aerial  tread  of 
those  angelic  feet  ?  The  left  one  is  planted  upon 
the  head  of  the  dragon,  who  looks  up  at  the  se- 
raphic vision  with  the  face  (it  is  said)  of  Innocent 
Tenth,  an  evil-eyed  old  demon,  and  now  powerless 
beneath  the  etherial  touch.  The  right  foot  rests 
upon  a  rock,  with  as  little  effect  of  weight  as  the 
alighting  of  a  bird  upon  a  tree.  It  is  the  insubstan- 
tial yet  immutable  firmness  of  divine  pov/er.     This 


2.58  NOTES  IN  ITALY.    . 

combination  of  airiness  and  might,  sliows  miraculous 
genius  in  Guiclo.  The  delicate  contour  of  the  limbs, 
the  pearly  texture  of  the  beautiful  feet,  like  the  snow 
of  an  infant's  feet,  as  if  just  created,  with  no  earthly 
stain,  are  united  with  superhuman  force,  expressed 
in  the  chest  and  arms.  One  hand,  the  left,  holds 
the  chain  with  which  the  dragon  is  to  be  bound,  and 
which  already  secures  him.  The  right  is  uplifted, 
grasping  a  sword,  in  act  to  strike.  The  glitter  and 
flash  of  the  inevitable  stroke  dazzle  as  it  descends. 
Outspread  wings  of  pencil-color,  just  the  hue  of  the 
shaded  side  of  a  cloud  near  the  moon,  hold  poised 
this  celestial  Leader  of  the  Hosts  of  God.  The 
downcast  white  lids,  with  djirk  lashes,  the  untroubled 
brow,  the  curves  of  the  closed  lips,  without  disdain 
or  pride,  but  tender  and  sweet,  though  resolute 
without  effort,  show  the  messenger  of  Our  Father. 
What  endless  worlds  of  meaning  are  evolved  from 
this  master-piece.  A  perfect  work  is  a  unit  of 
Truth,  and  all  truth  is  one.  The  w^hole  destin}^  and 
history  of  man  in  relation  to  the  Deity  can  be  read 
in  this  picture.  The  artist  who  was  copying  it  had 
entirely  missed  the  face  and  the  sway  of  the  atti- 
tude, but  had  succeeded  pretty  well  with  the  right 
foot  and  limb. 

Gallery  of  the  Sciaera  Palace. 

March  11th. — On  Saturday,  though  it  rained,  as  it 
is  the  only  day  of  the  week  for  the  Sciarra  Palace, 


BOMAN  JOURNAL.  253 

we  went  through  the  showers,  and  fled  into  the  gal- 
lery like  stormy  petrels,  taking  U.  for  the  closing 
festival  of  her  week.  The  first  picture  in  the  first 
room  that  arrested  us  was  Raphael's  Yiolin-player. 
It  stands  on  an  easel,  with  plate-glass  over  it.  It  is 
the  face  of  a  youth,  looking  over  his  right  shoulder, 
holding  the  bow  of  the  violin  in  his  hand,  vvdth  a 
flower.  It  is  a  dark,  Italian  face,  with  long  hair, 
falling  from  beneath  a  small  cap,  and  with  earnest 
eyes.  The  upper  lip  is  rather  long,  but  the  mouth 
is  handsome,  with  an  expression  of  grave  sweetness, 
and  the  painting  is  most  highly  finished.  But  I 
have  to  confess  that  I  was  not  so  deeply  smitten 
with  this  celebrated  picture  as  I  supposed  I  should 
be,  at  the  first  study  of  it.  The  memory  of  it  is 
more  powerful  than  its  presence  was,  but  when  I  see 
it  again,  I  shall  understand  it  better.  Near  it,  also 
carefully  glassed,  and  upon  an  easel,  stands  what  is 
called  "  Vanity  and  Modesty,"  by  Leonardo  da  Yinci, 
another  famous  picture,  so  very  often  repeated  in 
every  way.  As  in  almost  every  picture  that  Leo- 
nardo da  Yinci  painted,  one  can  see  Mona  Lisa  in 
this.  "Yanity"  is  another  Mona  Lisa,  Avith  her 
sweet  smile.  The  whole  is  as  rich  and  dark  as  a 
carbuncle,  and  of  deepest  glow  in  the  face  and  smile 
of  "  Yanity."  She  is  attractive,  beautiful,  and  gay, 
decked  with  jewels  and  finest  ripples  of  golden  hair, 
and  looks  away  from  her  monitor,  and  into  the  ej'es 
of  the  world  around  her  with  a  soft,  resolute  ex- 
pression of  persistent,  happy  complacency  with  her- 


•2G0  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

self  and  with  all  eartlily  good.  It  is  a  pure,  iuno- 
cent  vanity,  an  ideal  self-conceit,  not  in  the  least  of- 
fensive. "  Modest}^,"  with  her  veiled  head  and 
warning  finger,  is  not  so  charming  as  the  delinquent, 
though  she  is  beautiful.  She  looks  quite  hopeless 
in  her  expostulation  ;  and  I  tliink  one  might  as  soon 
expect  to  win  to  seriousness  the  play  of  sunshine  on 
a  waterfall,  as  this  smiling  maiden.  Engravings  and 
oil- copies  do  not  render  this  wonderful  face.  They 
leave  out  the  rich  meaning,  and  either  make  a  sim- 
per or  emptiness.  Only  these  very  lines,  only  these 
yerj  lights,  shadows,  and  colors  can  convey  the 
artist's  idea.  One  can  get  little  more  than  the  de- 
sign in  any  copy,  as  I  find  more  and  more.  Copy- 
ists generally  are.  superficial,  quite.  They  should  be 
informed  with  the  feeling  and  secret  of  the  soul  that 
wrought  the  wonder,  or  they  only  hide  the  master- 
piece they  pretend  to  repeat,  and  this  is  an  injury 
and  a  wrong,  and  not  a  benefit.  The  finish  of  this 
painting  is  of  the  highest  perfection.  It  is  only 
true  genius  that  has  patience  and  love  enough  to 
create.  Mere  talent  and  skill  are  never  faithful ; 
and  what  they  effect  in  art  can  never  last  but  a 
moment. 

In  the  first  saloon  is  also  a  copy  of  the  Trans- 
figuration, by  Valentine,  as  large  as  the  original,  and 
much  faded.  Being  hung  exactly  opposite  the  win- 
dows, with  unaccountable  disregard  of  proprieties, 
it  was  difficult  to  see  it,  and  I  did  not  care  to  try,  as 
I  have  nob  been  to  the  Yatican  yet,  where  the  original 


nOMAJY  JOURNAL.  2ai 

is.  To  copj  tlie  Transfiguration  !  Mr.  Valeniinc  was 
enterprising,  certainly ! 

In  the  next  room  is  a  Holy  Family,  by  Francia,  in 
wliicli  tlie  Madonna  is  different  from  any  other  of 
Ins  that  I  have  seen.  Instead  of  the  matronly  ex- 
pression of  care  and  solicitude,  together  with  great 
beaut}',  this  is  the  face  and  form  of  a  young  peasant — 
handsome,  but  not  ideal.  It  is  of  rich  color,  with 
dark  eyes  and  hair — honest,  sweet,  thoughtful,  but 
with  no  premonition  of  sorrow.  The  child  is  of  the 
usual  type. 

Two  large  pictures  by  my  new  painter,  Garofalo, 
are  here  :  a  Caccia,  and  the  vestal  Claudia  ;  and  also 
a  Noli-me-tangere,  in  which  the  Mary  is  exceedingly 
beautiful,  but  I  do  not  like  the  Christ  at  all.  The 
vestal  Claudia  has  fastened  the  rope  of  a  ship  to  her 
girdle,  and  is  drawing  it  across  the  Tiber,  out  of  the 
mud,  where  it  had  sunk,  to  prove  her  chastity. 
There  are  some  admirable  heads  and  figures  in  the 
group  of  priests  and  Roman  citizens,  who  await  her 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 

A  very  curious  large  picture  I  saw  called  the  Old 
and  New  Testaments.  Christ  and  the  Yirgin  Mary 
sit  on  a  throne  with  angels  on  each  side,  with  green 
wings.  Just  below  them  are  the  prophets  on  one 
hand,  and  the  apostles  on  the  other.  These  form  a 
sort  of  orchestra  (as  XJ.  suggested).  Below  the 
orchestra,  directly  in  front,  stands  an  angel,  and  a 
monk  kneeling  to  him  with  clasped  hands.  This 
angel  also  has  green  wings ;  but  his  attitude  is  fine, 


263  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

and  lie  points  to  Christ  in  answer  to  the  prayer  of 
the  poor  old  monk.  It  is  by  Ferrari.  One  of  all 
the  angels  in  the  orchestra  is  very  beautiful. 

In  a  bad  liofht,  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  is  a  most 
lovely  Madonna  and  child,  by  Carlo  Maratta. 
Mary's  head  is  in  profile.  The  babe  stands  upon 
her  knee,  and  endeavors  to  read  in  the  book  she 
holds  open.  It  is  very  graceful,  and  the  faces  are 
exceedingly  beautiful ;  but  it  was  aggravating  not  to 
be  able  to  get  a  good  view  of  it.  I  tried  to  push 
back  the  shutter  and  curtain,  but  they  would  not 
stay  back,  and  the  day  was  so  dark,  it  was  in  vain 
to  have  more  than  a  faint  glance  at  it. 

In  the  last  room  were  Guido's  two  Magdalens  j 
one,  the  Magdalen  delle  Badice,  and  the  other  much 
like  it,  but  far  more  finished  and  beautiful — one  of 
his  clief  d'ceuvres.  The  abundant  hair  is  not  of  the 
red  or  yellow  gold,  so  greatly  loved  by  Italiau 
painters,  but  palest  flaxen,  and  fine  and  soft  as  the 
silk  of  a  cocoon,  and  flowing  everywhere  about  and 
over  her  perfect  form,  like  streams  of  dim  light. 
From  all  points  of  view  but  one  her  mouth  seems  too 
much  open,  as  if  with  a  cry ;  but  there  is  one  point 
from  which  the  lips  look  only  parted  slightly,  as 
Avould  be  inevitable,  with  the  eyes  upturned,  and 
the  head  raised  and  a  little  thrown  back.  One 
lovely  arm  and  hand  support  the  head,  the  hand 
overflowed  by  the  pale  flood  of  hair,  and  clutching 
it ;  the  other  hand  rests  upon  a  skull,  and  this  right 
hand  and  arm  are  surpassingly  lovely.     This  is  one 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  263 

of  tlie  Guido  pictures  that  can  be  looked  at  forever, 
without  weariness  or  satiety.  It  is  forever  new,  and 
forever  more  expressive,  eloquent,  and  pathetic. 

In  strongest  possible  contrast  to  this  is  Titian's 
renowned  "Bella  Donna,"  the  portrait  of  a  lady. 
This  picture  realizes  completely  all  I  have  heard  of 
Titian's  coloring,  which  no  other  work  of  his  had 
yet  done.  The  flesh-tints  of  this  beautiful  lady  im- 
prison the  sunshine  of  Italy,  golden  and  fair  at  once. 
I  can  in  no  way  conceive  how  such  a  rich,  glowing 
splendor  of  tint  is  also  so  pure  and  fair  andxlazzling. 
I  find  here  the  master  of  color,  which  I  have  sought 
in  vain  in  all  the  Titians  I  have  hitherto  seen  in 
Kome  and  England.  It  can  neither  be  described  nor 
copied,  Titian  has  caught  the  daylight,  and  enclosed 
it  in  transparent  pearl.  A  folded  mass  of  auburn 
hair  crowns  the  head,  and  falls  behind  the  throat. 
As  U.  stood  near  I  perceived  what  artists  have 
meant  wdien  they  called  U.'s  hair  "  Titian  hair," 
for  it  was  vrecisehj  like  the  Bella  Donna's.  The  eyes 
are  dark  and  rather  small,  and  their  expression  and 
that  of  the  perfect  mouth  are  not  amiable.  The 
Bella  Donna  is  proud  and  imperious  and  peevish. 
Even  her  fine,  straight  nose  is  handsome,  without 
sweetness.  Bright,  gorgeous  colors  mingle  in  her 
dress.  When  looking  upon  the  face,  one  involun- 
tarily turns  to  see  whence  comes  the  sunshine  that 
seems  gleaming  over  it.  I  actually  exclaimed, 
"  "Why,  the  sun  has  come  out !"  and  behold,  it  was 
still  a  dull,  rainy  day,  and  I  came  to  discover  that 


264  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

the  liglit  was  not  upon  it,  but  tvitJiin  it.  Has  Titian 
painted  the  life  ?  I  perceive  how  Mr.  Alston  en- 
deavored to  get  this  miraculous  coloring" — but  he 
never  did  get  it.  His  complexions  are  all  thick  and 
muddy,  compared  with  this.  I  always  thought  them 
not  clear  and  living,  but  not  till  now  knew  at  what 
tliey  aimed  and  how  they  failed.  Titian's  Bella 
Donna  lives  and  breathes  througliout  ber  material 
form.  Her  veins  are  like  the  Pactolus,  and  her 
tissues  are  woven  of  opal  at  its  whitest,  but,  like 
that  marvellous  g"em,  you  feel  that  fire  is  some- 
where shut  in,  so  that  they  are  warm  and  sentient. 
But  I  am  trying  to  render  into  words  wliat  Titian's 
pencil  alone  can  manifest ;  for  this  must  be  seen  to 
be  known.  The  Venetian  artists  have  discovered 
the  secret  of  sumptuous  earthly  beauty.  Trans- 
mute a  superb  eastern  jewel  or  a  gorgeous  flower  into 
a  woman,  and  you  have  the  Bella  Donna.  In  Guido's 
faces  a  spiritual  and  heavenly  light  dawns.  His  Mag- 
dalen here  beams  througli  the  silver  mist  of  tears, 
like  a  lost  Pleiad,  striving  to  ascend  again  to  her  un- 
fallen  sister  band,  through  the  evening  dews.  *  ^  * 
We  then  went  to  the  studio  of  Mr.  Nichols,  a 
townsman  of  ours.  He  was  close  against  the  sky, 
up  a  hundred  steps !  We  saw  some  landscapes,  and 
a  copy  of  one  of  Murillo's  Holy  Families,  now  at  the 
Vatican,  and  it  was  a  fine  picture ;  but  I  have  not 
seen  the  original,  and  do  not  know  how  well  he  has 
succeeded  in  imitating  it.  He  has,  however,  a  high 
reputation  as  a  copyist  of  the  great  masters. 


r.OMAI^  JO  UBNAL.  305 

"We  tliouglit  we  would  go  into  Mr.  Gibson's  w^ork- 
room  after  our  skyward  visit ;  and  tliere  was  sucli 
a  crowd  of  statues  that  w-e  could  scarcel_y  move 
through  them — Cupids,  Venuses,  Nymphs  in  legions. 
Out  of  the  whole  throng  one  Cupid  shone  pre- 
eminent, as  fresh  and  lovely  as  if  it  had  been  the 
first  and  only  Cupid  conceived  and  sculptured  by 
man.  It  is  not  a  little,  round,  rolling,  baby  Love  ; 
but  a  boy,  in  earliest  youth,  toying  with  a  butterfly 
on  his  breast.  We  did  not  stay  long  in  this  room, 
all  were  so  busy  chopping  and  chiselling,  but  passed 
on  to  find  Miss  Hosmer,  whose  studio  is  behind  Mr. 
Gibson's.  Yet  we  got  into  another  crowd  of  Mr. 
Gibson's  immortals,  in  the  next  saloon.  A  bas-relief 
of  Cupid  and  Psyche  was  enchanting,  close  by  the 
door  ;  but  we  did  not  wait  to  examine  anj'thiug,  and 
pressed  on  to  Miss  Hosmer.  She  was  in  her  aditum, 
and  came  forward  with  the  most  animated  gesture 
to  greet  us.  Her  action  was  as  bright,  sprightl}^ 
and  vivid  as  that  of  a  bird  :  a  small  figure,  round 
face,  and  tiny  features,  except  large  eyes  ;  hair  short, 
and  curling  up  round  a  black  velvet  cap,  planted 
directly  upon  the  middle  of  her  head,  instead  of 
jauntily  on  one  side,  as  is  usual  with  artists ;  her 
hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of  a  close-fitting  cloth 
jacket — a  collar  and  cravat  like  a  young  man's — and 
a  snowy  plaited  chemisette,  like  a  shirt-bosom.  I 
liked  her  at  once,  she  was  so  frank  and  cheerful,  in- 
iependent,  honest,  and  sincere — wide  awake,  ener- 
getic, yet  not  ungentle.    She  showed  us  her  "  Puck," 

12 


S66  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

which  she  called  "  the  son  of  her  old  age," — a  mis- 
chievous mad  sprite,  sitting  on  a  toad-sfcool,  with  a' 
shell  on  his  wild  curls  for  a  cap,  and  a  crab  in  one 
hand ;  not  so  weird  as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds'  Puck, 
but  very  charming  and  jolly.  She  showed  me  also 
her  design  for  a  fountain — Hylas,  drawn  into  the 
stream  by  the  water-nymphs — which  I  liked  exceed- 
ingly, as  also  her  sad,  noble  Daphne ;  but  not  so 
much  her  Medusa,  which  missed  the  Greek,  terrible 
beauty.  Her  pencil-sketches  for  bas-reliefs  enchant- 
ed me- — Night  approaching— Dawn  coming — and  a 
Star  group,  all  in  circles.  In  one,  Night  rises,  draw- 
ing up  with  her  the  stars,  embodied  in  two  lovely, 
graceful  forms,  who  cling  to  the  ancient  mother.  In 
another,  the  Dawn  begins  to  mount,  and  the  stars 
above  (two  sister  forms)  veil  their  heads  and  close 
their  lids  before  it.  The  grouping  is  masterly.  Miss 
Hosmer  also  intends  to  model  a  Zenobia,  walking  in 
the  triumph  of  Aurelian.  After  seeing  all  she  could 
show  us  of  unfinished  designs,  we  descended  into 
one  of  Mr.  Gibson's  work-rooms  again,  where  men 
were  chipping  out  goddesses.  There  was  a  tinted 
marble  Venus,  with  a  golden  fillet  on  light  golden 
hair,  a  golden  apple  in  her  hand,  and  a  mantle 
edged  with  red  and  gold.  It  was  beautiful  and 
captivating ;  but  I  inveighed  against  the  coloring 
of  the  pure  marble  most  emphatically,  as  profana- 
tion, Avhen  Miss  Hosmer  exclaimed,  "  Take  care 
what  you  say — Mr.  Gibson  is  behind  you,"  So  I 
turned  to  him,  not  frightened  out  of  my  protest. 


ROMAN  JOUENAL.  267 

He  is  a  short,  elderly,  Italian-looking — or  rather 
Greek-looking — gentleman,  with  glowing,  dark  eyes 
under  pent-house  eyebrows — straight  nose — every 
feature  handsome.  He  smiled,  and  said,  "  It  was 
nonsense  not  to  like  tinting  of  marble — that  it  made 
a  richer  effect."  I  persisted  that  I  wished  for  pure 
form,  and  not  painting  in  sculpture ;  and  so  he  gave 
me  up  to  my  folly,  muttering  good-naturedly,  "  Yes, 
yes ;  it  does  seem  horrid  to  color  marble,  I  know." 
He  then  began  a  long  story  about  a  Chinese  general, 
which  I  did  not  care  to  hear.  I  kept  breaking  in 
upon  his  tale  with  "  That  is  a  group  of  Cupid  and 
Psyche — how  lovely  !"  "  Yes,  yes — that  is  Cupid 
and  Psyche- — so  the  Chinaman  said  ;"  and  then  fol- 
lowed more  story.  My  eyes  were  wanderiug  round 
on  Nymphs  and  Graces,  and  soon  I  unawares  ex- 
claimed again,  "  Oh,  what  an  exquisite  Flora !" 
"  Yes,  that  is  Flora — so  now"  the  rascally  Chinese 
general  declared  the  men  were  all  respectfully 
buried!"  At  last  the  narrative  was  finished,  with 
regal  indifference  to  interruptions,  and  Miss  Hosmer 
took  us  to  her  own  workshop,  where  her  cutters 
were  finishing  her  monumental  figure  in  m.arble — 
a  young  lady  asleep  on  a  tomb.  It  is  a  portrait,  she 
sa}S,  and  it  is  very  lovely,  I  had  time  for  only  a 
glance  at  her  Beatrice  Cenci — for  it  was  nearly  six, 
and  we  had  to  hurry  home  to  dinner,  up  the  Pincian 
hill. 

On  the  7th,  Sunday,  we  heard  there  w-as  to  be 
high  mass  at  Santa  Maria  Sopra  Minerva,  before  the 


268  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Cardinals,  on  account  of  tlie  festival  of  St.  Thomas 
x4.quinas.  So  I  went  witli  M.  and  Miss  S.  to  see 
and  hear.  It  was  a  fine,  clear  day.  This  is  the 
onlv  Gothic  church  in  Kome.  It  is  built  on  the  site 
(and  perhaps  partly  with  the  materials)  of  Pompey's 
Temple  to  Minerva,  and  is  veiy  near  the  Pantheon. 
It  has  now  the  plainest  possible  facade,  promising 
nothing,  like  so  many  churches  in  Italy.  Within,  it 
is  magnificent,  A  lofty  nave,  with  cippolino  marble 
columns,  and  arched  side-aisles,  with  chapels. 
Michel  Angelo's  statue  of  Christ  stands  on  the  left 
of  the  high  altar.  This  statue  is  one  of  Michel  An- 
gelo's divine,  gentle,  and  not  terrible  creations. 
Christ  stands  holding  a  very  heavy  cross,  his  face 
turned  from  it.  It  is  infinitely  powerful  in  the 
simple  majesty  of  its  action.  The  story  is  told  at 
once.  There  is  the  heavy,  heavy  cross,  and  there  is 
He  who  was  crucified  upon  it,  and  bore  it  for  us. 
The  noble,  serene  face  looks  straight  into  the  eyes 
of  all  men,  with  ineffable  attractive  force.  The  form 
is  delicately  moulded,  and  is  full  of  sensibility,  as  if 
it  would  suffer  much ;  yet  it  expresses  "  O  my 
Father,  if  this  cup  may  not  pass  away  from  me  ex- 
cept I  drink  it.  Thy  will  be  done."  In  its  strong, 
firm  peace  it  also  expresses  "  I  have  overcome  the 
world."  Its  gentleness,  its  gentle  majesty,  im- 
pressed me  more  than  anything  else,  at  the  first 
contemplation  of  it ;  but  a  very  little  only  of  a  great 
work  is  seen  at  first.  Meanwhile,  In'gli  mass  went  on, 
and  chanting  of 'De  Pro  fund  is,"'  but  there  were  no 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  369 

Cardinals.  After  mass  a  sermon  was  preacliecl,  and 
we  stayed  awhile  to  hear  Italian  pronounced  so 
sonorously  that  it  was  like  a  rich  hymn.  The 
preacher  was  eloquent  and  graceful,  and  discoursed 
of  St.  Tomaso  Aquino  in  words  that  rolled  hke  gems 
from  his  lips. 

March  15th. — A  week  ago  we  Y\^ent  to  the  Vatican, 
to  the  halls  of  sculpture.  They  commence  by  a 
very  long  narrow  gallery,  the  first  part  of  which  is 
devoted  principally  to  inscriptions,  inserted  into  or 
fastened  upon  the  walls— on  the  right  hand,  pagan, 
on  the  left,  Christian.  All  along  the  gallery  of  in- 
scriptions there  are  sarcophagi,  vases,  torsos,  capi- 
tals of  columns,  cippi,  and  various  bas-reliefs  of  fine 
workmanship — cornices,  and  specimens  of  everything 
picked  up  and  dug  up  about  Kome.  The  second 
part  of  the  gallery  contains  busts,  and  figures  of 
heroes,  gods,  goddesses,  emperors,  philosophers, 
poets,  children,  and  women.  .Here  is  the  colossal 
head  of  Minerva,  with  the  strange  black  eyes  and 
black  lashes,  while  the  rest  is  snowy  marble — the 
grand,  colossal,  sitting  figure  of  Tiberius,  with  the 
civic  crown.  He  seems  to  have  been  carved  out  for 
a  god,  though  he  became  unworthy  even  of  the 
name  of  ma.n.  Here  also  is  the  newly-discovered 
and  only  true  Cicero.  The  Cicero  that  has  hitherto 
been  called  the  orator,  is  now  supposed  to  be  his 
brother,  who  was  a  soldier.  It  is  only  a  year  ago 
that  this  was  found.     It  is  very  satisfactory  -  -a  re- 


370  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

fined,  intellectual,  penetrating  head,  with,  a  mouth 
of  wonderful  beauty.  Its  authenticity  is  proTed  by 
its  exact  resemblance  to  a  medal  in  the  Vatican,  in- 
scribed with  his  name,  and  which  the  long-accepted 
Cicero  does  not  at  all  resemble.  It  is  delightful 
really  to  have  seen  Cicero.  Here,  too,  is  the  cele- 
brated young  Augustus,  of  a  delicate,  poetic,  musing 
beauty,  with  a  lovely  mouth  and  a  perplexed  brow. 
The  trouble  on  his  brow  seems  a  prophetic  shadow 
of  his  anxiety,  at  the  close  of  his  life,  to  know 
"  whether  he  had  played  his  part  well." 

There  is  also  an  imperial  head  of  Julius  Csesar, 
as  Pontifex  Maximus,  with  a  folded  drapery,  and 
another  fine  Csesar,  not  veiled.  These  are  both  far 
superior  to  the  head  in  the  Hall  of  the  Emperors,  at 
the  Capitol,  though  still  like  that.  A  baby  Nero 
was  very  interesting.  It  is  not  a  pretty  child,  but  it 
is  not  evil  in  its  expression.  I  was  disappointed  in 
Scipio  Africanus-  I  expected  him  to  be  very  noble. 
It  is  an  earnest,  strong  head,  and  full  of  care,  and  in 
nero  antico.  Praxiteles'  charming  Faun  is  here  also, 
— a  happy  smile  embodied.  There  is  an  astonish- 
ing grace  in  the  figure,  and  a  cheerfulness,  like  a 
sunny  afternoon.  I  became  acquainted  with  this 
ever-enchanting  creation  in  the  Capitol.  He  stands 
in  an  attitude  of  easy  rest,  making  multitudes  of 
curves.  Sunshine  on  rippling  water  is  like  the 
gleam  on  his  face  and  form.  The  dolce  far  niente 
was  never  so  exquisitely  expressed.     He  is  perfect 


ROMAN  JO  URNAL.  271 

honliomiiiie,  idoalized  witli  a  tlionsand  fine  ameni- 
ties. It  is  one  of  tliose  master-pieces  of  antiquity, 
in  which  "the  marble  flows  like  a  wave." 

About  half-way  in  the  long  gallery,  the  Braccio 
Nuovo  leads  off  to  the  left, — a  gallery  with  mosaic 
floor,  and  marble  columns  and  arched  niches,  in 
which  full-length  statues  stand — and  half-columns  of 
red,  oriental  granite,  surmounted  with  busts.  If  it 
were  not  for  what  they  contain,  the  halls  of  the  Vati- 
can would  be  visited  for  their  own  intrinsic  splendor 
and  state.  But  who  minds  the  setting  of  diamonds  ? 
In  the  Braccio  Nuovo  is  the  Minerva  Medica,  which 
alone  is  worthy  of  a  pilgrimage  to  Kome.  I  had 
never  heard  of  this  statue  in  America,  and  first 
saw  a  cast  of  it,  a  very  fine  cast  of  it,  in  the  Crystal 
Palace  last  autumn,  pointed  out  to  us  by  Mr.  Silsbee, 
who  ^greatly  estimated  it.  Even  then,  in  the  dis- 
guise, and  through  the  obstruction  of  plaster,  it 
seemed  to  me  the  most  majestic  expression  of  pro- 
found and  pensive  thought  I  had  ever  imagined. 
The  plaster  was  as  much  as  I  could  comprehend  at 
first,  and  I  am  glad  I  saw  it  first ;  and  now  to  see 
the  marble  is  a  privilege,  for  which  I  trust  I  am 
suificiently  thankful.  There  is  a  grand  sorrow  in 
the  countenance  and  air,  but  it  is  the  sorrow  of  an  ^ 
immortal — the  pensiveness  of  profound  insight— not 
a  human  emotion.  The  drapery  is  in  fine  folds, 
and  falls  round  the  feet  in  solemn  flow.  The  ex- 
pression is  entirely  introspective.     The  features  are 


272  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

of  perfect  beauty,  of  a  very  high  order  of  beautj' — 
with  no  prettiness.  She  is  the  sister  of  the  Apollc 
Belvedere.  He  is  all  immortal  action,  while  Minerva 
is  immortal  Thought,  and  both  heroic. 

March  17th. — Yesterday,  it  was  so  perfectly  clear 
and  dry  and  exhilarating,  that  I  took  U.  to  the 
Palatine,  to  explore  the  ruins  of  the  Palace  of  the 
Cgesars.  We  wandered  out  of  our  way  by  going  up 
some  steps  on  the  right  of  the  Arch  of  Titus,  from 
the  Sacra  Yia.  It  was  very  interesting  to  go  that 
way,  however.  It  was  the  Yia  Santa  Buona  Ven- 
tura, and  led  to  a  church  of  that  name,  which  con- 
tained, on  one  side,  a  multitude  of  shrines,  like 
niches,  each  one  containing  a  colored  bas-relief  of 
some  event  in  the  life  of  Christ. 

On  our  left,  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  were  some 
ruins  of  arches,  said  to  be  of  a  temple  of  Adonis, 
erected  by  Domitian,  with  gardens  adjoining.  We 
then  passed  along  a  narrow  way,  with  high  walls  on 
each  side.  On  a  gate  on  our  right  we  saw  a  paper 
upon  which  was  written  "  Termi  di  Livia,"  and 
we  knocked,  but  no  one  came.  So  we  went  on,  along 
by  the  church  and  its  shrines,  till  we  came  into  a 
still  narroAver  path  with  still  higher  walls,  with  now 
and  then  a  gate,  peeping  through  which,  we  could 
sec  ruins  ;  but  no  one  would  let  us  in.  We  passed 
a  group  of  French  soldiers,  sitting  on  the  grass,  at 
some  game,  persevering  resolutely,  and  quite  beyond 
U.'s    patience,    who    was    sure    we   should   find   nc 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  27'c 

outlet,  yet  Avalked  on  in  her  queenly  gait,  out  of  in- 
dulgence to  my  persistence.  U.  was  right ;  there 
was  no  outlet,  and  we  were  obliged  to  retrace  all 
our  steps.  I  knocked  at  a  great  double-door  of  a 
garden,  on  our  return,  as  U.  saw  an  old  portress 
sitting  on  the  other  side,  and  she  admitted  us.  It 
was  a  vast  space  within,  partly  cultivated  with  vege- 
tables. On  the  left  side  was  a  semicircular  con- 
struction with  niches — alternate  square  and  arched 
recesses.  The  arched  ones  were  for  statues,  doubt- 
less, and  the  square  for  frescoes  or  mosaics.  At  the 
end  of  the  field  were  lofty  ruins  of  a  curved  shape. 
An  old  man  said  this  was  the  Sala  di  Augusto  Im- 
peratore,  and  a  Hippodrome  or  race-course  ;  and 
the  high  ruins  were  his  theatre.  Sunken  panels  of 
square  and  oval  form  were  cut  in  the  roof  of  the 
stone  arches,  and  a  little  minute  carving  of  the  cor- 
nices is  left.  We  climbed  up,  and  went  through  an 
opening  to  the  other  side  of  the  theatre-ruin.  Below 
us  stretched  out  a  richly  cultivated  plain,  once  the 
Circus  Maximus.  On  the  right  of  the  Hippodrome, 
now  the  garden,  is  the  Villa  Palatina,  standing  on 
the  site  of  the  Palace  of  Augustus.  We  sat  down 
in  the  sun,  on  a  bank  of  flowers,  and  took  out  our 
map  of  Home,  and  concluded  to  go  back,  and  find 
the  other  entrance.  We  therefore  passed  under  the 
Arch  of  Constantine,  upon  which  I  was  right  glad  to 
see  the  original  marble  relief  of  that  lovely  outline 
of  the  moon  setting  over  the  Tiber,  which  I  long  ago 
saw  in  Miss  Burley's  volume  of  antique  geuis,  by 

12* 


274  NOTES  IN  ITALY.  ' 

Moses.  It  is  broken  now  in  many  parts,  but  tlie 
beauty  and  grace  remain  yet.  "We  again  lost  oui' 
way ;  but  at  last  discovered  a  tablet  over  a  small 
door,  "  Alle  Eoviue  del  Palazzo  de  Cesari,"  and  we 
joyfull}^  entered.  An  English  lady,  with  her  port- 
folio and  camp-stool,  followed  us.  We  found  a  very 
lofty  flight  of  steps,  which  took  us  up  into  a  vesti- 
bule, turning  to  the  right.  This  was  frescoed,  and 
surrounded  with  low  stone  seats,  and  contained  an- 
other staircase.  We  strolled  about,  above,  among 
arches,  round  towers,  chambers,  halls,  and  recesses, 
gathering  purple  flowers  (efflorescent  loyalty,  in 
\^Q.e  very  home  and  centre  of  kingly  pomp),  and  bay- 
leaves,  with  which  to  crown  Csesar's  brow,  and  ivy 
and  laurestinus — and  admiring  without  end  tlie 
magnificent  views  on  every  side  of  the  lordly  Pala- 
tine, the  Campagna,  and  the  Alban  and  Sabine  hills, 
whitened  with  snow — and  Pome  within  these  lovely 
bounds. 

March  25th. — I  was  interrupted  in  my  record  more 
than  a  week  ago,  and  now  I  am  crowded  with  a 
multitude  of  events.  The  Prince  Piombino  sent  us 
a  ticket  of  admission  to  his  villa,  the  Yilla  Ludovisi, 
long  ago,  and  we  availed  ourselves  of  it  to-day.  It 
is  close  by  our  Palazzo  Larazani,  leading  up  from 
the  Piazza  Barberini,  by  the  Yia  Basilio.  Upon 
entering  the  gate,  avenues  and  enchanting  vistas 
opened  on  every  side,  but  we  went  first  to  the  Casino 
of  Sculpture.     There  are  two  rooms  in  this  small 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  273 

casino,  sown  thick  witli  richest  gems  of  art.  There 
is  a  Venus  coming  from  the  bath,  with  a  most  himi- 
nons  smile  curving  her  mouth  into  a  splendor  of 
beauty,  without  any  movement  of  the  muscles  of  her 
face.  There  is  often  an  insipidity  of  perfection  in 
the  lines  of  the  mouth  of  the  Yenuses.  But  in  this 
a  sweetness  and  an  archness  combined — a  full,  free 
wave  of  light — give  more  piquancy  to  the  expression 
than  I  have  before  seen.  It  is  the  foam-born  god- 
dess. There  is  the  sparkle,  the  motion,  the  trans- 
lucency  of  water  in  her  form  and  attitude.  She  is  en- 
tirel}^  beautiful,  and  there  is  an  Olympian  nobleness 
in  her  air.  A  sitting  statue  of  the  philosopher  Zeno 
is  good,  and  there  are  many  admirable  busts  of  the 
Emperors.  I  have  now  become  perfectly  acquainted 
with  Julius  Csesar,  Hadrian,  the  good  Trajan,  the 
pious  Antonine,  the  beautiful,  noble,  and  good  Mar- 
cus Aurelius,  the  superb  and  wicked  Commodus, 
the  ugly  monsters  Caligula  and  Nero,  the  handsome 
and  repulsive  Claudian  family,-  and  Augustus,  boy 
and  man.  I  know  also  the  earnest  Demosthenes, 
the  keen,  intellectual  Cicero,  beautiful  Euripides, 
our  dear  old  Socrates,  and  Phocian,  whom  Plutarch 
made  me  love — Marc  Antony  and  Lepidus.  Marc 
Antony  has  a  very  strong  head  and  face,  with  im- 
mense force  of  will  in  it — Lepidus  is  weak,  with  small 
features.  He  stands  opposite  the  powerful  Marc 
Antony,  in  the  curved  transept  of  the  Braccio  Nuovo 
in  the  Vatican — and  Augustus  is  between  them. 
There  they  are,  the  triumvirate,  perfectly-  life-like. 


27G  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

How  could  so  insignificant,  puny  a  person  as  Lepi- 
clus  be  united  with  sucli  might j  powers  as  Augustus 
and  Antony? 

Augustus 
Lepidus  Makg  Antojty 

How  little  I  once  tliouglit  I  should  ever  see  these 
persons  !  But  I  am  not  at  the  Vatican  now.  In  the 
inner  room  of  the  Casino  is  the  far-famed  Ludovisi 
Juno.  The  simplicity  of  this  Juno — the  absence  of 
all  attempt  at  effect,  ma}^  strike  one  Avith  surprise  at 
its  fame  for  the  first  moment,  and  lead  one  to  prefer 
the  other.  Yet  I  was  impressed  immediately  with 
the  pure  grandeur  and  majesty  of  this.  It  beams 
with  a  broad,  steady,  calm  effulgence.  Light  tran- 
quilly forms  itself  into  this  Queen  of  Olympus.  The 
lines  and  curves  are  all  as  soft  and  round  as  a  babj^'s, 
yet  grand  with  intellect,  and  serene  command.  It 
seems  to  rise  as  one  looks  at  it — to  rise  and  unfold 
and  bloom — a  vast  Lily  of  the  White  Eay,  combin- 
ing all  the  seven  other  rays — a  thousand  times 
Queen  and  Goddess.  No  effect  is  drawn  from  nobly 
arranged  drapery  ;  for  it  is  the  head  only.  The  hair 
is  folded  away  from  the  clear  brow,  and  surmounted 
with  a  diadem,  and  from  this  a  long  curling  tress 
hangs  behind  each  ear.  This  Juno  could  never  be 
angry.  Eternal  repose  has  crystallized  into  marble, 
yet  it  is  also  a  controlling  energy. 

On  each  side  the  door  are  wonderful  works.  One 
is  Mars  at  rest,  the  other  a  Hero,  taking  his  ease, 


ROMAW  JOURNAL.  277 

Mars  is  famous,  but  I  prefer  the  Hero.  The  Ik; ad 
and  face  of  the  last  are  more  noble,  I  think,  atid  the 
attitude  of  the  head  graceful  and  fascinating.  He 
sits  upon  the  ground  and  leans  forward,  supporting 
his  right  hand  with  his  sword,  while  his  left  hand 
and  arm  are  thrown  upon  his  right  knee,  which  is 
raised.  The  position  is  so  balanced,  that  one  sees 
he  might  sit  there  forever,  and  rest  forever,  and 
therefore  it  conveys  an  impression  of  comfortable 
peace.  Mars  clasps  the  left  knee  with  both  hands, 
and  at  his  right  foot  a  little  Cupid  sits  laughing.  He 
certainly  has  le  hcl  air,  and  it  is  glorious  sculpture. 

There  is  a  group  near  Mars  called  Orestes  and 
Electra,  when  they  meet  after  their  long  separation  ; 
but  it  is  also  suggested  that  it  is  Penelope  taking 
leave  of  Telemachus,  when  he  is  going  to  seek  his 
father.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  it  is  Penelope. 
There  is  a  mother's  love  in  her  face — a  tender,  fond, 
admiring  look,  as  if  she  commended  his  enterprise — 
a  matronly  dignit}''  and  sacred-  purity ;  and  the  ac- 
tion is  gentler  than  that  of  Electra  would  be,  who 
suddenly  should  recognize  her  brother.  There 
would  be  rapture  in  Electra.  In  this  face  and  figure 
is  quiet,  deep  love.  This  youth  is  also  much  shorter 
and  smaller  than  the  female  form,  as  I  think  Orestes 
would  not  be.  A  gentle,  home-like,  tranquil  dignity 
is  in  the  noble  woman,  and  she  is  fallj'  and  richly 
draped,  like  a  matron. 

There  is  also  a  large  group,  which  may  be  Pfetus 
and  Arria.     I  immediately  thought  of  it.     Arria  has 


278  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

already  pierced  lier  own  bosom,  and  is  falling,  held 
Up  by  the  arm  of  Psetus,  wlio  is  thrusting  the  knife 
into  his  heart.     It  is  very  powerful. 

A  bronze  bust  of  Julius  Csesar  is  remarkably  fine. 
It  is  singular  that  it  reminded  me  of  Mr.  Wm. 
Henry  C.     It  is  almost  Mr.  C.'s  portrait. 

After  two  hours  here,  we  walked  about  the  exten- 
sive and  delightful  gardens,  till  we  came  to  the 
Casino  of  the  Prince  and  Princess,  in  which  is  Guer- 
eino's  Aurora.  It  is  rather  harsh-looking  after 
Guide's,  but  upon  patient  study,  there  is  found 
great  beauty  and  expression  in  it.  We  mounted  to 
the  Belvedere,  and  saw  therefrom  a  magnificent 
view  of  Rome  and  its  environments.  We  then 
visited  the  gardens  of  Sallust,  which  are  included 
within  the  Prince  Piombino's  grounds,  and  we  saw 
a  strange  little  grotto.  I  could  not  but  wonder  that 
I  Vv^as  in  the  gardens  of  Sallust. 

March  26th. — We  went  to-day  to  see  the  Pope 
pray  at  St.  Peter's.  He  prays  there  every  Priday 
during  Lent.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good,  quiet 
time  to  see  his  face,  which  I  had  not  yet  done.  In 
due  time  a  great  many  attendants  arrived,  with 
various-colored,  long-bodied,  old-fashioned  coats, 
trimmed  richly  with  pie-colored  borders,  and  three- 
cornered  hats  upon  their  heads.  They  looked  like 
sudden  apparitions  out  of  an  old  picture-book  of 
ancient  costumes.  They  arranged  themselves  in 
lines  from  the  chief  entrance,  edging  the  crowd  with 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  S-O 

their  finery.  Then  followed  the  Swiss  Guard,  a  body 
of  stalwart  young  men.  Their  dress  is  entirely  pe- 
culiar— trousers  full  to  the  knee  like  a  Turk's,  with 
a  tunic — in  stripes  of  bright  yellow,  red,  blue,  and 
white.  The  dress  is  made  of  separate  strips  of  cloth 
of  the  pure  colors,  so  that  a  battalion  of  them  looks 
very  gorgeous  and  hai'lequiny.  These  gay  tuli^^s 
lined  the  \vay  quite  to  the  chapel.  The  space  before 
the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  to  which  the 
Pope  would  come  first,  was  left  wholly  free  for  his 
Holiness.  Near  the  gate  was  placed  a  prie-dien, 
covered  with  crimson  velvet  and  gold,  as  was  the 
floor  beneath — and  crimson  velvet  cushions  were  ar- 
ranged for  him  to  kneel  upon  and  to  rest  his  arms. 
We  patiently  waited  a  long  time,  and  at  last  a  stir 
announced  the  entrance  of  the  Pontifex  Maximus. 
He  was  preceded  and  followed  by  Cardinals,  dressed 
to-day  in  violet  robes,  significant  of  mourning,  just  as 
all  the  pictures  are  veiled  during  Lent  in  violet.  The 
Pope  was  arraj^ed  in  white  silk,  with  red  shoes  and 
a  red  mantle.  1  do  not  know  why  he  also  was  not 
in  violet,  unless  he  is  to  be  presumed  beyond  peni- 
tence and  mourning.  He  was,  however,  without 
tiara,  and  only  a  white  silk  skull-cap,  and  his  aspect, 
and  that  of  all  his  suite,  was  grave  and  sad.  I  saw 
him  very  well  as  he  passed  me.  His  face  is  benign 
and  comely,  and  every  few  seconds  he  blessed  the 
crowd  by  a  motion  of  his  right  hand,  and  a  slight 
bend  of  the  head,  at  once  majestic  and  gracious.  If 
one  could  only  believe  him  a  perfect  saint  and  virtu- 


280  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

ally  the  Head  of  the  Chnrcli,  this  would  have  been 
very  impressive.  He  made  a  deep  obeisance  to  the 
Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  where  he  believed 
God  was  present  in  the  wafer,  and  then  he  knelt  on 
the  crimson-velvet  cushion,  and  the  Cardinals  knelt 
behind  and  on  each  side  of  him ;  and  profound 
silence  fell  over  all  while  they  prayed.  Every 
Catholic  was  on  his  knees,  with  moving  lips.  As 
soon  as  the  Pope  rose,  there  was  a  rush  for  the  nest 
prie-dien,  prepared  in  front  of  St.  Peter's  shrine. 
We  stood  close  by  the  ever-burning  lamps,  and  the 
same  ceremony  was  repeated,  watched  and  gua^rded 
by  a  military  band.  I  at  first  thought  these  mailed 
and  halberded  soldiers  symbolized  the  Church  Mili- 
tant. But  they  are  merelj^  the  attendants  of  the 
temporal  prince,  as  the  Pope  claims  to  be  King  and 
Imperador,  as  well  as  Pontifex. 

March  31st. — Mrs.  W.  sent  this  morning  to  invite 
me  to  drive  with  her  in  the  afternoon,  and  she  came 
for  me  at  two  o'clock.  We  returned  to  her  house  in 
the  Piazza  cli  Spagna,  and  took  in  Mr.  W.  and  H., 
and  drove  to  tlie  Villa  Borghese.  This  is  a  very 
large  and  enchanting  domain,  and  the  prince  lib- 
erally permits  the  public  to  frequent  it  at  will  every 
da}^  after  twelve  o'clock.  It  has  groves,  deeply 
shaded  avenues,  lovely  meadows,  fountains,  wide 
prospects,  wild-flowers,  stone-pines,  casinos  of  sculp- 
ture and  painting,  and  profound  qaiet.  We  alighted 
from  the  barouche ;  and  H.,  looking  like  a  crocus  in 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  231 

lier  striped  purple  and  wliite  silk  dress  and  ribbons, 
strayed  off  into  one  of  tlie  sunny  meadoAvs,  and 
gathered  a  bouquet  of  pale-blue  violets.  I  thought 
of  Proserpine  in  the  Yale  of  Enno — but  checked 
myself  when  I  remembered  the  result  of  that.  On 
the  border  of  one  of  the  aveniies  was  a  row  of  stone- 
pines  ;  and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  the  enthusiasm  of 
Mr.  W.  for  them.  It  was  so  great  that  it  served  for 
us  all.  Their  lofty  curves,  marked  on  the  upper 
azure,  certainly  have  a  peculiar  charm.  In  a  land- 
scape b}^  Turner,  in  the  Marlborough  House,  I  saw 
one  so  perfectly  painted,  that  these  living  ones 
seemed  quite  familiar  to  me.  All  about  the  grounds 
were  marljle  busts  and  statues,  which,  even  in  this 
clear  climate,  have  lost  their  brilliancy.  It  is  melan- 
choly to  know  that  it  is  not  possible  for  the  owners 
of  these  superb  villas  to  reside  in  them  in  summer, 
on  account  of  the  malaria  ;  so  they  are  w^asted  when 
in  their  complete  beauty,  "What  a  strange  and  mys- 
terious retribution  upon  the  Empress  of  the  World 
is  the  malaria  !  It  is  said  to  be  increasing  and  en- 
croaching, so  that  Borne  will  finally  be  left  desolate, 
a  sign  and  a  portent 'to  the  nations. 

In  reading  the  history  of  Home,  I  feel  as  if  the 
Campagna  were  all  steeped  in  human  blood,  and 
filled  with  human  bones  and  dust,  as  indeed  it  must 
be.  I  have  heard  that  one  cannot  sit  down  on  the 
grass  in  the  Campagna,  anywhere  over  its  whole 
extent,  without  finding,  just  beneath  the  flowers  and 
turf,  these  human  bones,  excepting  where  there  ara 


283  X0TE8  IN  ITALY. 

ruins  of  dwellings.  It  lias  been  thick  witli  life,  and 
now  it  is  thick  with  death,  and  Death  is  chasing  all 
that  remains  of  Life  from  these  regions. 

After  exploring  the  Borghese  grounds,  we  drove 
to  the  Forum  and  Coliseum,  and  to  the  Pyramid  of 
Caius  Cestius,  in  the  line  of  the  city  walls.  It  is  in 
perfect  preservation,  covered  with  plates  of  white 
marble,  and  its  apex  as  sharp  as  if  just  pointed, 
though  it  has  pierced  the  air  for  at  least  two  thou- 
sand years.  Mr.  W.  and  I  left  the  carriage  to  see 
the  tomb  of  Keats ;  for  the  Protestant  burial-ground 
is  at  the  foot  of  the  Pyramid.  There  is  a  white 
marble  headstone,  with  "  Here  lies  a  young  English 
Poet"  upon  it,  and  no  name.  The  hillock  over  the 
body  is  still  rounded,  and  covered  with  flowers, 
which  seem  to  be  carefully  tended.  Shelley's  grave 
is  close  by,  but  we  could  get  no  admittance  to  it ; 
and  we  could  not  go  into  the  Pyramid  to-da}^,  be- 
cause the  custode  was  not  there.  It  has  a  small 
chamber  in  the  centre,  with  arabesques  that  still 
retain  their  bright  colors. 

'  We  then  went  into  an  old  church,  in  which  was  an 
enormous  Mask,  called  La  Bocca  della  Yerita.  On 
each  side  of  the  nave  were  ancient  columns  of  various 
orders,  rifled  from  pagan  temples.  The  floor  was 
of  mosaic.  Two  marble  pulpits,  on  each  side  the 
choir,  were  of  the  remotest  Christian  times.  They 
are  called  ambones,  I  believe.  The  mosaic  is  Alex- 
andrian work.  The  name  of  the  church  is  Santa 
Maria  in  Cosmedia,  and  it  stands  where  once  stood 


EOMAN  JOURNAL.  283 

a  temple  of  Ceres  and  Proserj^ine,  from  wliicli  the 
columns,  and  perliaps  the  pavement,  were  taken. 
The  lovely  temple  of  Yesta  is  close  by,  and  also  that 
of  Fortuna  Yirilis,  which  is  exceedingly  small,  but 
perfectl}^  beautiful  in  its  proportions ;  and  opposite 
to  it  is  the  house  of  Eienzi,  the  last  of  the  Tribunes. 
Pilate  is  said  to  have  lived  in  it. 

We  then  drove  over  the  Pons  Cestius  (St.  Bar- 
tholomew's Bridge)  to  the  Island  of  the  Tiber,  now 
entirely  covered  with  houses.  In  Roman  history 
I  have  read  a  story  of  a  ship  having  been  sent  to 
Greece  for  a  statue  of  Esculapius,  as  a  charm 
against  the  pestilence,  and  that  when  it  arrived  in 
the  Tiber,  a  living  snake,  whose  form  Esculapius 
assumed,  glided  out  of  the  ship  into  the  island  and 
hid  itself  among  the  thickets,  and  a  temple  was 
erected  to  Esculapius  on  the  spot.  Substructions 
of  this  very  temple  now  remain  ;  but  they  are  built 
upon  by  modern  houses.  The  island  wa.s  faced  with 
rock,  and  made  in  the  shape  of  a  ship,  and  an 
Egyptian  obelisk  was  put  up  in  the  centre,  to  repre- 
sent a  mast.  A  hospital  now  stands  on  the  site  of 
the  temple  of  Esculapius. 

We  afterward  drove  to  Santa  Maria  in  Trastevere, 
a  large,  old  church,  with  a  stately  nave,  bordered 
by  ancient  granite  columns.  One  of  the  chapels 
was  prepared  for  Domenichino  to  paint  in  fresco  ; 
and  in  one  corner  of  an  arch  he  commenced  with  a 
little  cherub,  and  then  he  fell  ill  and  died.  No  other 
hand  has  carried  on  the  work.     The  little  cherub 


284  NOTE,.,  m  ITALY. 

remains  alone,  as  we  saw,  surrounded  with  thfi 
empty  panels.  There  was  something  inexpressibly 
affecting  in  these  Yoid  spaces,  watched  over  by  the 
cherub. 

Finally  we  drove  to  St.  Peter's,  where  we  in- 
tended to  hear  Vespers.  There  was  a  dense  crowd 
round  the  gate  of  the  choral  chapel ;  but  we  patient- 
ly waited  two  hours,  and  then  crushed  in  and  ob- 
tained seats  in  front.  The  music  was  divine  to-day. 
It  was  a  Miserere,  and  gave  us  a  foretaste  of  the 
Miserere  we  shall  hear  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  by  and 
by.  They  had  the  triangle  of  lights,  and  extinguished 
them  one  by  one,  after  each  chant,  and  then  a  priest 
took  down  the  candle  from  the  apex,  and  hid  it  be- 
hind the  altar.  Yiolet  curtains  were  drav/n  over  the 
windows.  All  the  Canons  of  St.  Peter's,  and  all  the 
acolytes,  and  one  Cardinal,  in  violet  robes,  knelt 
down,  and  a  wonderful  voice  rose  upon  the  silence 
and  rich  gloom,  like  a  pure  crystal  jet  of  translucent 
water,  and  then  curved  and  fell  to  rise  again.  "  Mise- 
ra,  Misera  !"  It  fell  into  a  sea  of  sad  voices  com- 
posed of  the  whole  choir,  and  then  rose  out  of  them 
again  and  again,  far  into  the  lofty  dome,  as  if  seeking 
heaven  with  its  cry  for  pity.  The  responses  of  the 
Canons  were  so  dissonant  and  loud  that  I  Avas 
shocked  and  shaken  by  each  uproar;  but  I  had 
never  conceived  any  sound  so  eloquent,  sweet,  and 
pathetic  as  the  single  miraculous  voice.  I  could  not 
dream  of  anything  superior  to  it  then. 

It  was  dark  at  the  close  of  the  music,  and  the 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  285 

balcony  over  the  statue  of  St.  Yeronica  was  liglited 
up,  because  there  was  to  be  an  exliibition  of  relics — 
a  portion  of  the  true  cross,  and  the  handkerchief 
St.  Yeronica  gave  our  Saviour  to  wipe  his  brow,  when 
he  passed,  bearing  his  cross,  on  the  way  to  Calvary. 
All  we  could  see  at  such  a  distance  v.-as  a  very  superb 
and  glittering  frame  to  each  of  these  relics,  which 
seemed  to  be  all  gold  and  precious  stones.  The  fad- 
ing twilight  in  the  vast  basilica  was  very  impressive 
and  grand.  The  multitude  hnelt  when  the  priest  held 
up  the  glittering  treasures  ;  and  the  prostrate  throng, 
the  illuminated  balcony,  the  lofty  arches  receding  in 
the  darkness,  the  apparently  endless  nave,  made  a 
marvellous  picture,  such  as  can  nowhere  else  be 
seen.  Aforetime,  a  cross,  seven  feet  long,  of  bur- 
nished metal,  studded  with  the  most  brilHant  lights, 
was  let  down  from  the  dome,  the  most  glorious 
imaginable  sight,  and  powerful  enough  to  kindle  up 
those  wastes  of  space.  But  it  was  necessary  to  dis- 
continue the  custom,  because  the  Americans  and 
English  behaved  so  indecorously  during  the  cere- 
mony— walking  about,  laughing  and  talking  aloud, 
much  to  the  horror  of  the  devout  worshippers,  and 
.certainly  very  much  to  the  discredit  of  the  manners 
and  decency  of  both  Protestant  nations.  I  have  no 
patience  with  them,  because  I  should  have  seen  it 
to-night,  if  they  had  shown  proper  respect  to  the 
faith  of  the  Eomans.  As  we  left  the  Piazza,  \\q 
looked  back,  and  savf  one  solitary  star  risen  directly 
over  the  church,  one  star  in  the  purest  sky.     Oi 


386  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

course  we  could  tliink  only  of  the  star  that  stood 
over  the  place  where  the  J^oung  Child  lay. 

On  the  17th  March  (I  must  not  omit  to  record)  1 
went  with  the  children  and  Miss  Shepard  to  the 
Baths  of  Caracalla.  We  drove  to  the  entrance,  and 
were  admitted  through  a  small  window,  rather  than 
a  door,  on  the  side  of  a  great  gate.  An  old  man  is 
custode,  and  takes  fees.  He  at  first  insisted  upon 
leading  us  to  a  bed  of  delicious  violets  in  one  of  the 
mighty  halls,  saying  "  they  were  the  violets  of  Cara- 
calla !"  Yiolets  never  were  "  of  Caracalla,"  I  am 
very  sure.  One  glance  from  his  wicked  eyes  would 
kill  violets,  for  I  know  his  evil  scowl  perfectly.  "We 
found  the  various  halls  stupendous  in  size  and 
height,  and  the  principal  one  really  incredibl}^  so. 
I  did  not  suppose  that  such  an  apartment  was  ever 
roofed  in.  If  the  Emperor  should  sit  at  one  end 
upon  a  raised  dais,  he  might  think  he  were  ruling- 
over  a  kingdom  within  the  four  walls.  A  part  of  the 
mosaic  pavement  has  been  uncovered  within  a  short 
time,  and  it  must  have  been  superb  when  in  its  full 
polish  and  perfection.  All  round  the  hall  it  is  of 
the  fish-scale  pattern,  very  appropriate  for  baths. 
In  the  centre  there  is  another  pattern,  and  the  ceil- 
ing was  once  an  immense  mosaic,  but  it  has  now 
fallen,  and  lies  in  heaps  upon  the  floor  in  huge 
boulders — on  account  of  the  granite  columns  having 
been  unpardonably  removed.  The  pavement  is  of 
purple,  green,  white,  and  yellow  marbles,  and  the 
ceilino-  of  black  and  white.     The  border  close  to  the 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  287 

walls  is  mixed  of  all  tlie  colors,  producing  tlie  ricliest 
effect,  and  the  outside  rim  of  pure  white. 

In  the  centre  each  oval  is  alternately  of  j^ellow, 
white,  and  green ;  the  corners  of  the  white  are  pur- 
ple— of  the  green,  j^ellow,  and  of  the  yellow,  green. 

All  this  was  not  in  the  style  of  the  Florentine 
mosaics,  in  which  one  color  is  one  piece  of  'pietru 
dura,  but  each  of  these  divisions  is  made  up  of 
small  bits,  and  it  is  all  composed  of  marbles.  The 
purple  is  porphj'-ry,  the  green  is  serpentine,  and  the 
yellow  is  giallo  antico.  The  walls  of  this  apartment 
were  faced  with  marbles  also,  and  columns  of 
alabaster  and  marble  stood  around,  w^iile  marble 
statues  peopled  the  arcades  and  colonnades  with 
ideal  beauty — gods  and  heroes !  And  there  they 
would  all  have  been  now,  and  there  would  have  been 
the  Avails  and  ceiling,  if  man  had  not  wantonly  de- 
stroyed them.  I  found  one  small  room  with  a  roof. 
It  is  concave,  paved  with  mosaics,  and  some  of  the 
marble  plates  are  still  on  the  walls.  This  was  prob- 
ably the  natatio,  the  swimming-bath — a  private  little 
one — and  delicious  it  must  have  been.  Indeed,  the 
whole  vast  hall  seems  slightly  concave.  What  if  it 
"were  once  a  mighty  sv,dmming-bath  at  times,  when- 
ever the  Emperor  chose  to  let  loose  his  aqueduct 
upon  it ! 

In  a  sort  of  tower  there  is  a  staircase  which  leads 
to  the  top,  and  we  went  up,  and  walked  about  on  the 
passages  made  by  the  thickness  of  the  walls.  They 
also  are  laid  in  mosaic.     It  was  desimed  never  to 


288  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

decay,  certainly.  The  views  from  tins  summit  are 
beautiful,  of  the  same  unwearying  objects  in  differ- 
ent relations — the  Alban  and  Sabine  Mountains,  the 
melanchol}^  wastes  of  Campagna  and  Kome,  with  its 
domes  and  palaces  —  forever  new,  forever  old  — 
fascinating  beyond  all  other  combinations  of  hill 
and  plain  and  city.  I  fell  into  infinite  depths  of 
musing,  as  one  must  always  do  in  the  midst  of 
Roman  ruins.  It  is  certainly  all  right  that  Cara- 
calla's  baths  shordd  tumble  and  thunder  down,  and 
startle  Rome  with  fear  and  horror ;  for  they  were 
built  up  through  the  toil  and  agony  of  thousands  of 
captives,  heathen  and  Christian,  and  revolting  crimes 
were  daily  committed  to  make  them  so  sumptuous 
for  the  tyrants  who  were  to  enjoy  them.  Thousands 
to  suffer  and  die  that  one  might  roam  in  state, 
through  miles  of  splendor,  in  cool  comfort,  and  feast 
his  eyes  on  beauty !  Under  such  a  curse,  these 
stupendous  structures  could  not  stand.  The  very 
stones  must  have  loDged  to  revenge  the  wrong,  and 
resist  being  placed  in  harmonious  forms. 

Since  the  ruling  powers  had  no  mercy,  inanimate 
nature  must  have  sympathized  v^h  the  oppressed 
human  creature,  and  I  can  almost  fancy  that  there 
was  an  inward  exultation  in  the  heart  of  the  mightj 
blocks  when  they  hurled  themselves  crashingly  from 
their  settings,  where  weary,  suffering  hands  had 
fixed  them.  If  man  turns  his  heart  to  stone,  then 
stones  must  contrive  to  have  hearts  to  balance  the 
scales  of    divine   justice.      Flowers  grew  on  those 


BOMAN  JOURNAL.  2S9 

lieiglits,  springing  out  of  tlie  crumbling  mosaic,  as 
tender  and  fresli  and  sweet  as  if  there  never  liad 
been  sin  nor  sorrow  on  tlie  earth,  or  on  the  spot 
where  they  grew.  They  seemed  to  me  hke  the  gra- 
cious smile  of  the  patient,  Eternal  Father,  whose  in- 
finite pity  preserves  the  world  in  its  orbit,  notwith- 
standing its  errors  and  relapses.  They  suggested 
the  loving  mercy  with  which  He  waits  for  His  prodi- 
gal sons,  ready  to  take  them  into  His  arms  when 
they  arise  and  go  to  Him. 

J and  I  straj'ed  all  about,  while  the  others 

sat  still ;  for  they  did  not  care  to  search  for  treas- 
ures. We  found  some  marbles  and  bits  of  mosaic 
for  memorials,  and  discovered  wonderful  subterra- 
nean recesses  and  rooms.  Perhaps  some  of  them 
were  for  heating  water,  but  we  did  not  know  wdiat 
they  were  for.  We  saw  some  broken  columns  and 
finely-wrought  capitals,  and  at  last  we  opened  into 
a  covered  apartment,  where  a  great  many  sculptures 
were  placed,  that  had  been  collected  about  the  ruins 
— pieces  of  figures,  heads,  vases,  and  morsels  of 
architectural  carvings.  I  asked  the  old  custode 
whether  these  relics  were  his  ;  and  he  replied,  "  No — 
sono  di  Pio  Nono." 

The  atmosphere  was  transcendent  that  day,  and 

on  the  way  home,  J and  I  dela^^ed  at  the  Arch 

of  Constantine  to  sketch  a  bas-relief  of  the  moon 
rising  over  the  Tiber,  in  the  same  style  as  that  of 
the  moon  setting — of  which  I  made  mention  before, 
and  which  is  on  the  other  end  of  the  arch. 

13 


290  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

On  the  IStli  of  March  we  went  to  the  Temple  of 
Vesta  the  first  thing.  The  original  roof  of  this  is 
lost,  and  replaced  by  one  as  ugly  as  possible  ;  but 
otherwise  it  is  as  perfectly  beautiful  in  form  as  ever, 
though  discolored  by  the  storms  of  centuries.  ~  It  is 
of  Parian  marble,  once  pure  white — a  small  circular 
cella,  surrounded  by  a  colonnade  of  Corinthian  fluted 
pillars.  One  column  only  has  fallen.  A  woman 
admitted  us.  It  consists  within  of  one  simple 
apartment  about  twenty  feet  in  diameter,  lined  with 
white  marble,  I  never  saw  anything  built  by  human 
hands  so  simple  and  so  lovely.  Oh  the  divine  sobriety 
of  Grecian  art !  What  a  pattern  for  manners  !  It 
seems  like  a  floM^er.  I  wonder  why  some  one  of  the 
Popes  has  not  put  on  a  proper  roof,  instead  of  allow- 
ing these  •  rude  tiles  to  remain,  like  a  rough  cover  to 
a  daintily  finished  casket.  It  deserves  either  fit 
restoration,  or  the  right  of  being  an  untouched  ruin. 
It  stands  close  upon  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  which 
must  have  overflowed  it  many  times,  and  I  doubt 
not  it  is  the  very  temple  spoken  of  by  Horace,  built 
by  Numa,  ages  ago.  When  it  first  rose  there  in  its 
spotless  purity,  it  must  have  been  a  fair  type  of  a 
vestal  virgin.  Within  full  view  of  this  pearl  of 
beauty  is  the  temple  of  Fortuna  Virilis,  a  very  small 
parallelogram,  surrounded  with  fluted  Ionic  columns, 
with  a  portico  in  front.  It  is  made  of  Travertine 
and  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  the  Ionic  order.  The 
Greek  forms  have  for  me  a  mighty  charm  still, 
though  I  thought  I  never  could  be  so  much  carried 


IWMAN  JOURNAL.  29J 

away  by  them,  after  being  steeped  in  the  glorious 
Gothic  so  thorough^.  But  the  understanding,  as 
well  as  the  imagination,  must  have  its  sign. 

Near  to  this  Fortuna  Yirilis  is  a  fabric  we  had 
not  yet  seen-  with  four  sides — Janus  Quadrifrons. 
It  is  a  most  solid  and  potent  building,  which  must 
stand  during  the  forever  of  this  world,  I  am  sure,  as 
unmoved  and  immovable  as  it  already  has  stood 
since  Septimius  Severus.  The  blocks  of  marble  are 
enormous.  It  is  no  doubt  Etruscan.  The  Etruscans, 
and  the  race  they  were  of,  easily  moved  mountains 
about,  it  is  plain  to  see.  In  the  centre  is  a  vaulted 
roof.  The  earth  has  accumulated  around  it  to  such 
a  height,  that  it  is  now  in  a  hollow,  and  it  has  evi- 
dently been  dug  out ;  for  the  inundations  of  the 
Tiber  set  so  much  soil  afloat,  that  new  levels  v/ere 
constantly  formed.  These  four  arched  fronts  must 
have  faced  four  streets.  We  were  in  the  Yelabrura 
^ — the  Forum  Boarium.  There  are  many  Forums, 
though  I  once  supposed  there  was  but  one,  the  ever 
most  illustrious  Roman  Forum. 

Near  Janus  Quadrifrons,  is  another  small  arch, 
ver}'  much  ornamented  with  sculptures.  An  inscrip- 
tion testifies  that  it  was  erected  to  Septimius  Severus 
and  his  wife  and  children. 

We  then  retraced  our  steps  to  the  Ponte  Eotto, 
which  is  a  re-erection  of  the  Pons  Emilius,  from 
which  Heliogabalus  was  thrown  into  the  Tiber. 
The  great  Scipio  Africanus  and  the  stupid  Mummius 
finished  it  from  a  beginning  by  Lepidus  and  some 


£98  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

consul.  Standing  upon  tins,  we  looked  along  the 
river,  and  saw  tlie  ruins  of  the  illustrious  bridge 
Sublicius,  upon  which  Horatius  Codes  did  such  good 
battle  against  Porsenna,  and  then  destroyed  it — or 
rather,  the  Komans  destroyed  it  at  his  command. 

We  passed  over  the  Ponte  Potto  into  the  Traste- 
vere,  and  walked  a  long  waj^  to  St.  Peter's.  We  had 
heard  that  the  Komans  of  this  region  were  finer  and 
nobler  looking  than  any  others,  and  claimed  to  be 
descended  from  the  pure,  ancient  race.  We  did  not 
observe  much  difference  to  the  others  in  those  whom 
we  met  in  the  streets.  Yery  many  of  the  people 
have  a  kingly  air  and  step,  all  over  Pome.  We  en- 
tered St.  Peter's,  where  I  alone  remained  to  see  the 
five  newly-appointed  Cardinals  pray  at  the  two  holy 
shrines- — that  of  the  Sacrament  and  of  St.  Peter. 
While  I  waited,  people  began  to  collect  to  see  the 
ceremonj^,  and  purple-robed  priests,  with  lace  tunics, 
came  out  of  the  choral  chapel,  and  knelt  down  near 
me  to  pray.  I  had  my  tiny  sketch-book,  and  caught 
one  of  them  exactly.  In  the  midst  of  his  prayer, 
when,  in  my  own  sincerity,  I  supposed  him  wrapt  in 
devotion,  away  from  all  sublunary  needs,  he  shocked 
me  by  taking  out  his  snuff-box,  and  making  himself 
jolly  with  a  pinch.  It  seemed  as  if  something  must 
happen  at  such  a  disturbance  of  the  divine  economy 
and  order ;  but  the  grand  space  and  silence  swallowed 
up  this  portentous  irreverence,  as  if  it  were  a  very 
little  thing.  And,  in  truth,  the  priest  only  injured 
himself,  and  could  not  disturb  the  true  worship  and 


ROMAN  JOURNAL.  293 

sublimit}"  of  devotion  of  those  who  really  prayed. 
And  so  my  own  private  tourhillon  at  this  incident 
subsided  in  presence  of  the  majestic  calm  pervading 
the  temple.  Processions  of  nuns  passed  in  remote 
distances  of  the  nave — processions  of  young  acolytes 
also,  in  various  costumes — all  kinds  of  monks  and 
churchmen,  each  body  in  a  different  habit,  as  well 
as  multitudes  of  ecclesiastical  schools,  in  peculiar 
dresses.  Each  group  was  occupied  with  its  ov/n 
separate  duty,  and  there  was  abundance  of  room  for 
thousands  of  groups  more. 

At  last  the  grand  entrance  was  flung  open,  and 
the  five  new  Cardinals,  in  yexj  new  scarlet  silk  skull- 
caps and  violet  robes,  came  in,  attended  by  footmen 
and  prelates,  and  knelt  at  a  prie-dieu,  side  by  side. 
One  of  them  was  quite  J'oung — an  unusual  thing. 

I  observed  all  at  once  that  I  was  rather  officiously 
attended  by  a  stranger  Italian,  who  seemed  to  feel 
bound  to  suggest  to  me  a  good  place  to  stand  ;  and 
as  I  could  not  possibly  get  rid  of  him,  I  became  rather 
alarmed,  and  left  the  church  at  once,  and  took  a 
carriage  home,  resolving  not  to  be  quite  alone  again. 
I. think  he  must  have  been  a  spy. 

March  20th  is  memorable  for  a  charming  walk 
which  I  took  with  little  K.  to  the  Temple  of  Peace, 
the  Coliseum,  the  Coelian  Hill,  and  the  Forum.  It 
was  a  glorious  blue  and  gold  afternoon,  and  we 
sauntered  along  very  slowly.  I  meant  to  play  in  the 
Temple  of  Peace  with  Pt.,  to  fulfil  a  prophecy  of  my 


204  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

very  dear  friend  S.  A.  C,  wtio  said  to  me  years  ago, 
wlien  I  could  not  dream  of  sucli  an  event,  "  that  my 
children  would  one  day  play  in  the  Temple  of  Peace." 
But  now  it  was  so  full  of  boys,  and  also  so  defiled, 
that  K.  w^as  disgusted.  She  enjoyed,  however,  the 
magnificent  arches — the  richly-sculptured  capitals, 
bases,  and  architraves  lying  about  upon  the  ground  ; 
and  then  we  went  on  to  the  Coliseum,  where  the  de- 
vout were  kissing  the  black  cross  in  the  centre  ;  and 
then  to  the  Coelian,  where  I  sat  upon  a  marble  seat, 
in  view  of  the  Palatine,  while  R.  gathered  daisies  on 
the  lawns,  and  I  mused  about  Etruria,  because 
Etruscans  settled  on  this  hill  in  the  far-off  times, 
and,  as  I  believe,  were  the  most  civilized  race  of 
Italy  before  Eome  was  built. 


•A 


^' 


n. 

JOUENEY  OF  EIGHT  DAYS  FEOM  EOME 
TO  ELOEENCE. 

CiviTA  Castellana,  May  24th,  1858. 
We  left  Eome  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock.  The 
weather  was  then  fine,  though,  earlier,  there  was  a 
fog.  We  had  a  nice  old  vetturino,  Gaetauo  by  name, 
who  looked  like  a  good  New  England  farmer,  with  a 
face  placid  and  gentle,  and  not  at  all  Italian  in  color 
or  expression.  Our  carriage  was  of  the  usual  long 
and  cumbersome  fashion,  with  seats  inside  for  four, 
and  a  coupe  in  front  for  two,  in  the  form  of  a  chaise — 
and  in  front  of  the  coupe,  a  bos  for  the  vetturino. 
Our  luggage  was  bestowed  upon  the  top,  and  behind, 
reaching  out  many  a  rood,  so  that  with  four,  and 
sometimes  six  horses,  we  have  the  effect  of  an  endless 
arrangement  of  human  affairs.  We  drove  out  of  the 
Porta  del  Popolo,  the  old  Elaminian  gate,  leading 
upon  the  Elaminian  Way,  and  we  were  detained  five 
minutes  for  the  examination  of  our  passports.  I  felt 
an  extraordinary  and  unexpected  regret  at  leaving 
Eome,  and  if  it  had  been  a  final  departure,  I  should 


296  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

have  been  almost  inconsolable, — so  potent  and  pro- 
found is  the  hold  this  "city  of  the  soul"  has  upon 
the  mind.  A  great  crowd  appeared  afar  off  on  the 
road,  and  it  proved  to  be  regiments  of  infantrj^,  artil- 
lery, and  cavalry,  all  marked  No.  I.  We  could 
fancy  them  either  the  Roman  legions,  returning  from 
a  memorable  victory  (for  the  music-bands  were  in 
full  pla}'),  or  a  saucy  army  coming  to  attack  the 
"Mother  of  Empires,"  before  they  were  "dead."  It 
was  a  grand  spectacle,  but  they  stirred  up  a  suffoca- 
ting cloud  of  dust,  \\  hich  was  all  that  remained  with 
us  for  the  pageant. 

Pretty  soon  we  began  to  see  the  identical  pavement 
of  the  oldFlaminian  Way,  by  the  side  of  the  compar- 
atively modern  road.  It  is  not  very  broad,  but  very 
perfect,  composed  of  large  flag-stones,  as  much  as  a 
foot  and  a  half  wide,  and  more  than  a  foot  thick,  as 
smooth  as  a  marble  church-floor,  and  carefully  joined. 
It  is  a  wonder  of  skill  and  faithful  finish,  and  a  stu- 
pendous work,  considering  its  length  from  Home  to 
Soracte !  Rome  could  never  have  done  such  vast 
things  if  she  had  not  broken  up  kingdoms  to  do  them, 
and  brought  captive  to  her  throne  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  peoples,  gentle  as  well  as  simple,  to  accom- 
plish her  will.  I  am  surprised  that  the  Popes  do 
not  lay  open  this  masterpiece  of  human  hands  and 
heads,  through  its  whole  extent,  though  I  fear  some 
of  its  admirably  fitted  blocks  have  already  been 
removed  to  build  other  structures,  which  is  a  foolish 
and  stupid  act,  if  it  be  so.     Yet  such  ruin  of  the 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  2S7 

most  precious  memorials  to  tlie  classic  scliolar  is 
constantly  brought  about  bj  Popes  and  modern 
Princes.  How  impious  in  this  Avay  are  'the  Piuses, 
how  merciless  the  Clements,  how  unblest  the  Bene- 
dicts !  I  looked  upon  this  road  with  absorbing  in- 
terest. There  is  something  that  contents,  or  rather 
that  is  satisfactory  to  man's  right  royal  demand  for 
incredible  deeds,  in  these  Koman  relics.  It  is  not 
the  triumph  of  our  pride,  so  much  as  the  proof  of 
our  possibilities,  that  gratifies  one.  The  Romans  had 
the  will  and  the  might — virtue — as  they  understood 
it— according  to  their  acceptation  of  the  word.  If 
there  were  will  and  might — virtue  according  to  Christ, 
what  could  not  be  done  ? 

Ten  or  more  miles  from  Eome  we  still  saw  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter's  on  the  horizon,  and  there  were 
miles  and  miles  of  the  fair  and  fatal  Campagna,  ex- 
tending every  way,  plain  and  rolling,  deliciously 
green — a  green,  and  not  "a  whited  sepulchre."  We 
passed  a  great  many  crumbling  tombs,  and  mediaeval 
towers ;  but  Gaetano,  our  vetturino,  did  not  know 
their  histories. 

By  and  by,  Soracte  began  to  appear — Byron's 
"  long  swept  wave,"  that  "  pauses  in  its  curl."  As 
we  came  nearer,  we  found  it  to  be  a  vast  rock,  and 
Byron,  as  usual,  to  be  correct  in  his  description  of  it. 
It  does  indeed  look  like  a  suddenly  petrified,  enor- 
mous heap  of  waves,  about  to  foam  and  fall  hun- 
dreds of  feet.  It  "  hangs  pausing."  It  is  "  the 
lone   Soracte's    height,"   and    is   one  of  the    nota- 

13* 


398  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

ble  and  beautiful  objects  on  the  horizon  in  Eome. 
and  here  we  were  ahnost  at  its  base.  It  is  called 
Sant'Oreste  now,  and  on  its  rugged  summit  is  a  con- 
vent in  the  name  of  St,  Silvestro,  which  pilgrims 
climb  up  to  yisit.  The  view  from  it  must  be  glo- 
rious. The  Temple  of  Apollo,  sung  of  by  Yirgil, 
was  on  this  site,  two  thousand  feet,  at  least,  above 
the  sea.  Saint  Oreste  is  also  a  town  on  an  eminence 
near  the  mountain,  once  the  Etruscan  Feronia. 
There  is  an  old  grotto  on  the  side  of  the  mighty 
crag,  and  deep  clefts,  out  of  which  oracle-inspiring 
gases  still  gush.  There  ought  to  be  trijDods  there, 
upon  which  any  one  might  sit  and  be  a  sibyl  or  a 
prophet  for  a  time. 

We  stop]3ed  to  lunch  at  Castel  Nuovo  at  twelve 
o'clock,  our  first  stage.  It  is  a  small  village  in  the 
Boracic-acid  region,  told  about  by  Murray ;  but  I 
do  not  care  about  boracic  acid  in  Italy,  and  as  I  did 
not  see  the  works,  I  let  them  pass.  The  inn  \vas 
a  strange  old  place,  and  in  the  inner  vestibule  there 
was  an  altar  or  cippus  of  white  marble,  beautiful!}- 
carved,  a  bay  or  olive  tree  in  bas-relief  in  the  centre 
of  the  side,  and  a  lovely  device  round  the  edges.  It 
is  now  put  to  the  base  use  of  a  leg  to  a  table,  for 
upon  it  is  a  stone  slab  upon  which  people  eat  and 
drink.  We  were  led  into  a  large  apartment,  paved 
with  bricks,  in  diamond  shape,  and  the  ceiling  high 
and  frescoed,  and  two  long  tables  on  each  side.  At 
one  of  them  we  had  our  lunch.  Gaetauo  is  our 
commissary,  and  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  order- 


ROME  TO  FLOllEBGE.  290 

ing  our  food.  He  gave  us  to-day  beefsteak,  ome- 
lette, bread  and  cheese,  and  wine,  all  of  excellent 
qualitj^  We  neither  order  nor  pay  at  the  moment 
for  anything,  for  he  is  also  onr  purser,  being  paid 
finally  the  amount  first  agreed  upon  for  the  whole 
journey,  which  is  very  comfortable,  and  reheves 
us  from  all  care  and  imposition. 

After  lunch  we  all  went  out,  and  descended  into  a 
valley— the  children  far  down,  but  ^-e  sat  on  the 
gi-ass  in  a  shady  place  near  the  entrance.  I  gath- 
ered the  prettiest  httle  bouquet  in  the  world,  of  all 
the  colors.    *     *     *     *     *     * 

We  left  Castel  Nuovo  at  two  o'clock.  On  the 
vv^ay,  the  mountain  Soracte  took  every  form — some- 
times a  round,  sometimes  a  conical,  and  oftener  a 
long,  crested  shape.  The  dells  and  profound  valleys 
on  each  side  of  our  road,  were  wopderful  for  beauty 
and  richness.  For  a  great  distance  the  high  cause- 
w^ay  was  apparently  built  up  from  an  exceedingly 
deei3  vale — by  Eomans,  of  course ;  for  who  else 
would  dream  that  such  a  stupendous  work  could  be 
done  ?  Just  fancy  a  wide  plain  between  lofty  ranges 
of  mountains,  and  fancy  the  conception  of  piling 
up,  in  the  centre  of  it,  a  foundation  for  a  road,  five 
hundred  feet  from  the  plain  !  This  seems  to  have 
been  done.  The  roads  are  all  perfect  that  we  have 
yet  travelled  upon  here — hard  and  smooth,  and  this 
road  over  the  valley  entirely  straight.  Some  of  them 
are  paved,  though  not  in  the  Flaminian  style,  but 
all  in  consummate  order.     How  can  I  write  down  the 


300  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

flowers  ?  The  hedges  and  fields  burn  with  poppies 
of  the  brightest  scarlet,  and  they  have  an  effect 
among  the  green  grass  and  shrubbery,  which  an  un- 
travelled  American  can  in  no  wise  imagine.  Scarlet 
is  so  satisfying,  so  triumphant  a  color,  like  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet  (as  a  blind  man  described  it), 
that  to  see  it  spread  over  consecutive  miles  of  coun- 
tr}^,  quite  overwhelmed  me  with  joy  and  gratitude  ; 
and,  contrasting  it,  the  pure  gold  of  the  broom  is 
sumptuous,  and  a  nameless,  lowly  purple-blossom 
clothed  the  ground  with  royal  robes,  varied  with 
daisies  and  buttercups,  as  embroidery.  One  large 
field  might  truly  have  been  called  "the  field  of  the 
cloth  of  gold,"  for,  from  a  distance,  there  was  no 
break  in  the  yellow  hue  ;  just  as  sometimes  the  pop- 
pies are  one  sufi^usion  of  fiery  red.  It  is  not  here 
and  there,  but  everywhere.  The  sweetbrier  contrib- 
utes its  delicate  beauty  to  the  vvaysides  with  long 
wreaths  of  pale,  pink  roses.  We  are  perpetually 
accomxDanied  by  the  lovely  mountain-ranges,  and 
as  the  afternoon  deepened,  they  took  soft  and  airy 
tints,  seen  only  in  Italy.  As  we  were  happily  look- 
ing forth  on  such  a  profusion  of  beauty  and  splen- 
dor of  light  and  space,  it  was  sad  to  see  a  long  car- 
riage full  of  prisoners,  who  had  no  outlook — not  a 
crack,  and  who  had  only  small  openings  in  the  roof 
of  their  prison,  partly  shaded  by  extinguishers,  for 
breathing.  In  front  sat  two  dragoons,  and  the  vet- 
turmo.  This  melancholy  carriage  we  saw  three 
times,  and  I  was  suffocated  and  miserable  at  the 


ROME  TO  FLOHENCE.  301 

sight.  Gaefcano  called  it  a  carcellaria.  They  might 
at  least  have  had  grated  windows.  I  cannot  bear  to 
see  anything  alive  boxed  np.  No  matter  what  a 
man  has  done,  he  ought  to  have  air  and  light  while 
he  has  life,  even  if  he  have  forfeited  his  freedom. 
Air  and  light  cannot  make  him  worse,  but  probably 
would  make  him  better.  Justice  should  not  be  angry 
and  revengeful  with  crime,  but  only  careful  that  the 
innocent  should  not  suffer  by  it. 

At  half-past  five  we  arrived  at  Civita  Castellana, 
and  met  near  the  entrance  a  line  of  donkeys,  carry- 
ing loads  of  hay.  Yery  comical  was  the  picture  of 
the  short  donkey,  with  his  long  ears  and  small  front 
presentment,  with  such  a  wide-spreading, high  load; 
so  immensely  disproportioned.  The  hotel  was  a 
large,  respectable  building,  and  we  were  agreeably 
surprised,  at  being  ushered  up  into  this  enchanting 
suite  of  rooms,  opening  out  upon  a  broad,  covered 
terrace  or  loggia,  which  commands  a  magnificent 
scene.  Our  apartments  are  in  a  row,  and  we  are 
quite  by  ourselves.  Everything  looks  clean  and 
nice,  and  the  prospect  before  us,  who  can  describe  ? 
Now  we  see  Italy,  the  Italy  of  song.  It  is  also  real 
Italy,  which  no  song  can  fully  render— Byron's, 
however,  best.  We  never  could  have  appreciated 
Byron's  genius  if  we  had  not  come  to  Italy.  He 
came,  saw,  and  became  master  or  conqueror  of  the 
land,  by  reproducing  it  in  words.  The  truth  of  his 
portraiture  is  marvellous.  He  was  only  thirteen  or 
fourteen  days  in  Eome,  and  he  not  only  looked  at 


303  W0TE8  IN  ITALY. 

everything  in  that  short  time,  but  sung  it  as  no  one 
else  before  or  since  has  done. 

From  our  loggia  we  look  doAvn  into  a  deep  ravine  ) 
and  rocks  of  red  tufa,  perpendicular,  and  hundreds 
of  feet  high,  rise  out  of  it,  and  form  its  sides,  like 
fortresses,  overgrown  and  adorned  with  foliage  of 
trees  and  shrubs.  From  the  summits  of  these  para- 
pets stretches  a  green  campagna,  with  groves  and 
meadows,  in  smooth  undulations,  and  far  in  the 
middle  distance  lofty  hills  rise — some  crowned  with 
cities  ;  and  beyond  these  the  grand  mountains  fill 
the  remote  spaces,  each  one  lovelier,  as  it  climbs 
higher  and  farther  off  into  the  pale  blue  and  purple 
and  roseate  abysses.  An  arched  bridge  spans  the 
defile,  the  limbs  of  the  arches  resting  on  the  very 
bottom  of  the  gulf.  Soracte  is  on  the  other  side.  I 
have  been  trying  to  sketch,  but  just  in  the  midst 
dinner  was  announced,  and  took  up  the  goldenest 
hour  between   six  and  seven,  and  afterward  it  was 

too  late. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

The  moon  is  up  now,  and  I  have  been  on  the  ter- 
race to  see  it,  all  having  gone  to  walk  except  sleep- 
ing little  E..  and  mj^self.  It  is  not  a  full  moon, 
and  there  is  a  clear  but  dark  light,  most  magical  aud 
mystical.  How  fortunate  we  are  to  have  the  moon- 
Hght ! 

Teeni. 

May  25th. — We  arrived  here  at  twelve  o'clock, 
having  left  Civita.  Castellana  before  six  this  morn- 


BOME  TO  FLOEENCE.  303 

ing.  "We  came  to  see  the  Falls  of  Terni ;  but 
it  has  rained  all  the  afternoon,  and  we  cannot  stir 
out — a  pouring  rain.  It  is  necessary  to  walk  a  mile 
after  driving  as  far  as  possible,  and  so  it  is  quite  an 
impracticable  thing  to-day.  What  a  misfortune  ! 
We  can  see  nothing  from  this  Hotel  delle  Tre 
Colonne  excepting  an  old  house,  two  feet  from  our 
window^s,  and  a  man  making  a  tabic  at  an  open 
casement.     Not  even  a  green  leaf  or  a  blade  of  grass. 

We  had  a  superb  drive  this  morning,  looking  into 
the  vale  of  the  Nar.  The  olive  plantations  are  very 
numeroiis,  and  grape-vines  are  trained  to  separate, 
short  trees,  not  far  apart,  so  that,  perhaps,  when  the 
vines  become  long  they  are  looped  from  one  tree  to 
another,  and  make  a  continued  canopy  of  grapes. 
The  olive-leaf  is  dull-green,  just  as  we  always  knoAV 
it,  and  one  side  is  silverj^,  so  that  w^hen  it  flutters  in 
the  breeze  it  looks  paler  than  when  in  repose.  It  is 
not  a  pretty  tree  at  all. 

We  also  passed  the  vale  of  the  Nera  and  of  the 
Treja,  and  drove  through  the  town  of  Narui,  the 
birthplace  of  Nerva.  It  is  the  Nequinum  of  the 
Romans.  It  has  a  square  castle,  which  is  a  prison 
nov/.  Near  this  old  Umbrian  city  we  looked  down 
into  the  lovely  vale  of  the  Nar. 

We  wished  to  go  into  the  cathedral  of  Narni,  be- 
cause of  a  masterpiece  of  Lo  Spagna — the  Coro- 
nation of  the  Madonna ;  but  'we  could  not,  as  there 
^as  no  time. 

We  kept  coming  again  upon  the  wonderful  Fla- 


304  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

minian  Way,  which  goes  farther  than  Soracte,  I  find  ; 
and  along  it  we  saw  many  more  ruins  of  tombs  ; 
and  we  went  through  the  village  of  Otricoli  (Utri 
culum),  the  first  Umbrian  cit}^  that  yielded  to  Home, 
There  was  the  most  extraordinary  formation  of  rock 
It  is  volcanic — all  the  region  is  volcanic — and 
seemed  to  be  in  distinct  layers.  Some  of  it  was 
horizontal,  and  some  slanting  one  way  and  some 
another,  in  opposite  directions.  We  passed  over  a 
fine  bridge  after  leaving  Otricoli,  built  by  Augustus, 
and  now  called  the  Ponte  Felice,  and  then  Bor- 
ghetto  appeared,  with  its  old  fortress.  The  scenery 
upon  the  near  approach  to  the  town  of  Terni  is  in- 
describably enchanting.  It  is  singular  that  one  of 
the  Romans  should  have  made  these  falls.  It  was 
Curius  Dentatus,  the  Sabine  conqueror.  I  have  read 
all  about  it,  but  cannot  stop  to  recount  the  matter. 

Magnificent  mountains,  rich  with  foliage  and  cul- 
tivation, swept  dow^n  to  the  deliciously  verdant  vale, 
along  which  a  pale  ghost  of  a  river  meandered. 
The  rivers  of  Italy  seem  a  solution  of  white  or  yel- 
low cla}^  and  are  nowhere  clear  and  limpid.  We  saw 
very  many  beds  of  rivers,  long  ago  run  past,  or  j^er- 
haps  never  full,  excepting  after  the  melting  of  snows 
on  the  heights.  Close  on  the  plains,  beside  the 
river-beds,  were  ruins  of  towers,  small  castles,  or 
houses  ;  and  just  over  the  site  of  these  buildings  the 
shrubbery  was  particularly  luxuriant,  as  if  the  mem- 
ories of  the  hearthstones' were  pleasant  and  flowery. 
It  was  so,  I  remember,  with  the  ruins  of  a  small 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  805 

temple  or  cliurcli  in  the  Isle  of  Man.  It  stood  in 
the  centre  of  a  grass-field,  and  the  walls  remained 
standing,  while  the  roof  was  gone ;  and  it  was  so 
full  of  rich  plants  and  lovely  trees,  which  towered 
up  over  the  broken  edges,  that  it  had  the  effect  of 
a  gigantic  vase  of  flowers,  standing  on  an  emerald 
table. 

Spoleto. 

May  26th. — We  left  Terni  at  six  this  morning, 
which  proved  fair ;  and  our  first  stage  was  to  this 
town,  where  we  breakfasted  at  twelve,  our  usual  hour 
for  dejeuner  a  la  fourcliette.  The  first  Bishop  of  Spo- 
leto was  a  contemporary  of  St.  Peter,  Murray  says. 
It  is  a  queer  old  town,  with  narrow  streets  and  pic- 
turesque Roman  gates,  at  one  of  which  Hannibal  was 
repulsed, — and  that  one  we  have  walked  through  or 
passed  under.  It  is  of  vast  strength,  and  quite  en- 
tire, and  has  the  ruin  of  a  lion  on  one  side,  with  a 
lamb  in  its  mouth.  We  have  been  to  see  the  Ca- 
thedral, which  contains  some  fine  pictures  ;  and  over 
the  entrance  is  an  ancient  mosaic  of  Christ  and  the 
Virgin  and  Sfc.  John. 

A  beautiful  effect  the  aqueduct  has,  with  its  nu- 
merous arches — spanning  the  deep  vale  between  the 
elevation  upon  Avhich  Spoleto  stands  and  the  moun- 
tain near.  Gaetano  brought  us  into  the  city  through 
a  lovely  avenue  of  acacias,  and  by  a  delightfully  an- 
cient wall,  full  of  ruined  watch-towers,  that  looked 
as  if  they  might  have  stood  there  since  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world. 


306  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

FoLiGNO  {Fulginium). 

May  26th. — We  left  Spoieto  at  a  little  aftei  tAvo^ 
and  arrived  here  early  enough  to  take  a  walk  about 
the  town.  We  climbed  more  than  three  thousand 
feet  to  Monte  Somna,  by  the  aid  of  oxen,  added  to 
our  four  horses.  At  Le  Pene  the  Clitumnus  rises, 
which  is  the  ouly  translucent  stream  we  have  3'et 
seen  in  Italy.  Byron  has  immortalized  its  purity, 
as  well  as  the  "  delicate  temple"  on  its  banks.  The 
temple  has  fluted  Corinthian  columns,  and  is  very 
small,  facing  the  river.  We  saw  "  the  milk-white 
steer,"  and  also  a  flock  of  lambs,  passing  over  a  fairy 
arched  bridge,  the  sweetest  picture  of  peace  and 
innocence  ;  and  it  is  singular  that  Byron's  words 
should  prove  so  literally  true  at  that  moment.  The 
vale  of  Clitumnus  is  wonderfully  beautiful,  and  in- 
spired Yirgil  to  sing  of  it,  and  of  its  flocks  and 
steers,  ages  ago — and  it  sings  itself  also.  The  Yia 
Flaminia  again  appears  here ;  and  the  town  of 
Montefalco  is  seen  from  the  road,  before  we  arrive 
at  Foligno — Foligno,  the  scene  of  so  many  earth- 
quakes, and  once  the  possessor  of  Raphael's  divine 
Madonna  (now  in  the  Vatican),  in  which  a  thunder- 
bolt is  painted,  descending  upon  the  city.  Yfe 
walked  out,  and  visited  the  Cathedral.  Its  walls 
looked  very  bare,  after  being  accustomed  to  the 
richly-marbled  walls  of  Roman  churches.  There 
were  two  half-ruined,  red-marble  lions  at  the  en- 
trance, and  a  sculptured  Gothic  front ;  but  the  rest 


BOME  TO  FLORENCE.  307 

of  tlie  edifice  was  painfully  modernized  and  wliite- 
washed.  A  little  boy,  witli  one  leg,  followed  us  all 
over  the  town,  into  all  the  churches,  as  if  he  were  a 
spy.  He  asked  for  nothing,  but  looked  on  and 
grinned.  We  went  into  Santo  Domenico,  once  cov- 
ered with  frescoes,  also  whitewashed  nearly  over  now, 
yet  a  few  heads  and  groups  are  left  of  the  ancient 
paintings — heads  of  saints  and  angels.  In  Santa 
Maria  infra  Portas  we  saw  the  ancient'  temple  of 
Diana,  now  a  chapel,  in  which  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul 
once  said  mass ;  and  on  the  wall  is  a  very  old  paint- 
ing, in  a  ruinous  condition.  It  is  beautifully  arched, 
and  a  deep-muUioned,  small  window  remains  on  one 
sidp.  This,  again,  is  another  of  those  very  small  and 
perfect  temples  of  Greek  design.  All  about  the 
church  were  frescoes  saved  from  the  general  white- 
wash, some  of  which  wexe  well  worth  study. 

In  this  strange,  weird,  rambling  old  hotel,  we  are 
to  remain  to-night. 

Assisi. 

May  27th. — "We  left  Foligno  at  six  and  passed  the 
town  of  Spello  (Hispellum),  whose  treasures  of  art 
we  should  have  liked  to  go  and  see,  but  Gaetano 
drove  pitilessly  by,  as  it  was  not  in  our  contract  to 
stop  there,  and  brought  lis  to  Assisi,  so  associated 
with  St.  Francis.  It  is  the  native  town  of  Metas- 
tasio,  and  above  all  contains  the  works  of  Giotto, 
in  a  large  convent  and  church  of  St.  Francis.     A 


:J03  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

horrible,  dirty  scout  ran  by  tlie  side  of  our  carriage 
for  many  miles  ;  and  when  we  set  forth  to  go  and 
see  the  town,  he  presented  himself  as  guide.  I  told 
him  we  did  not  want  him,  but  he  followed  us  just 
the  same,  and  went  to  the  Cathedral  with  us  and  to 
the  Church  of  Santa  Chiara.  But  then  we  made 
the  hostess  dismiss  him,  and  provide  another  guide, 
who  proved  pleasant  and  intelligent,  and  was  clean 
and  respectable.  He  went  with  us  to  the  famous 
convent  and  church.  It  has  an  upper  and  loAver 
part,  beneath  which  is  still  a  crypt,  which  contains 
St.  Francis'  body.  The  middle  part  is  deeply  im- 
pressive, with  its  Gothic  vaultings  and  arcades,  and 
sombre  light.  It  seemed  perfectly  dark  when  we 
passed  from  the  sunshine  into  its  nave,  but  after  we 
became  more  owlish,  we  could  see  a  little.  It  is  the 
first  specimen  of  Gothic  architecture  in  this  part  of 
Italy,  and  it  is  really  delightful  to  see  Gothic  archi- 
tecture after  so  much  Greek  and  classic  in  Rome, 
and  elsewhere  in  Southern  Europe.  A  Franciscan 
priest  was  summoned  by  the  guide,  and  he  took  us 
first  to  the  high  altar,  above  which,  on  the  ceiling, 
are  some  of  Giotto's  masterpieces.  There  are  four 
compartments,  illustrating  the  three  virtues  of  St. 
Francis — his  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience — and 
in  the  fourth  is  his  apotheosis.  We  broke  our  necks 
looking  at  these  frescoes,  but  it  was  worth  while. 
They  are  astonishinglj^  bright  still,  and  full  of  beauty 
and  grace — especially  the  groups  of  angels  round  the 
saint's  throne.     But  it  is  impossible  in  such  hurried 


HOME  TO  FLORENCE.  S09 

visits  to  immortal  works,  to  j^ive  an  adequate  idea 
of  their  character.  Everj-thing  was  gorgeous — all 
the  wood  or  stone  work  covered  with  rich,  white 
silk,  embroidered  with  flowers,  and  every  kiud  of 
splendor — all  culminating  in  the  masterpieces  of 
Giotto  above,  Yv^e  were  not  allowed  much  time  to 
sta}',  and  followed  themonk  into  some  side-chapels, 
of  which  I  particularly  remember  one  by  Andrea  del 
Ingegno,  and  one  by  Dono  Doni.  That  by  Andrea 
is  covered  by  sibyls  and  prophets,  grand  and  beau- 
tiful, and  so  much  admired  by  Raphael  that  he  is 
said  to  have  imitated  them  in  his  sibyls  of  the  Santa 
Maria  della  Pace,  in  Rome.  But  it  is  a  pretty  bold 
saying  that  Raphael  imitated  any  one.  Dono  Doni 
has  illustrated  the  life  and  death  of  St.  Stephen, 
and  I  perfectly  have  in  my  mind  the  face  of  Stephen, 
when  he  kneels  to  be  stoned,  with  hands  extended, 
and  turning  a  full,  radiant  countenance.  It  is  in- 
deed "  as  the  face  of  an  angel."  With  what  won- 
derful devoutness  these  ancient  masters  painted ! 
They  pray,  they  adore  God,  they  deny  themselves, 
they  live  gloriously, — all  with  their  pencil.  They 
painted  religiously,  and  there  is  an  expression  in 
the  faces  and  figures  nowhere  else  found,  except- 
ing in  Raphael,  who  imbibed  so  deeply  the  spirit  of 
those  men,  and  was  their  last  expression.  In  what 
is  called  the  vestibule  of  the  middle  church,  was  a 
chapel  with  locked  gate,  in  which  was  a  picture  by 
Perugino  that  seemed  exceedinglj'  beautiful,  at  the 
distance  we  stood.     I  was  surprised  that  the  priest 


31(  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

did  not  let  us  in,  for  we  had  apparently  been  ad- 
mitted into  all  the  holy  places  ;  but  perhaps  they 
are  afraid  of  some  sudden  escapade,  as  it  is  a  framed 
painting,  and  not  secure  on  the  walls.  In  this  ves- 
tibule we  saw  some  tombs,  one  reputed  to  be  that 
of  the  Cyprian  Queen  Ecuba,  who  gave  a  huge  vase 
of  ultramarine  to  the  church,  for  the  painting  of  the 
ceiling.  The  vase  (which  was  there)  is  big  enough 
to  hold  sufficient  ultramarine  for  the  painting  of  the 
sky  itself,  I  should  fancy.  I  should  like  to  spend 
weeks  in  looking  at  many  frescoes  that  we  could 
only  glance  at.  "We  then  ascended  to  the  upper 
church,  out  of  the  crypt-like  gloom  of  the  middle 
one,  and  it  was  like  climbing  into  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem, so  light,  so  gorgeous,  so  lofty  and  airy  is  this 
statel}^  Gothic  structure.  The  roof  is  painted  by 
Cimabue,  and  the  walls  by  Giotto,  Cimabue,  and 
Guinta  da  Pisa.  Damp  has  very  much  injured  a 
great  part  of  these  frescoes  ;  but  enough  remains  to 
show  how  fine  and  brilliant  they  once  were.  The 
life  of  St.  Francis,  and  subjects  from  the  Bible,  are 
represented.  When  I  remarked  upon  the  cheerful 
splendor  of  the  upper  church,  the  priest  said  that  it 
was  for  festas,  and  the  one  beneath  for  prayer  and 
devotion.  The  windows  are  filled  with  painted  glass, 
which  adds  to  the  glowing  effect.  We  did  not  go 
down  into  the  crypt. 

In  the  Piazza  of  the  town  we  saw  the  Temple  of 
Minerva,  or  rather  its  portico,  with  fluted  columns, 
well  preserved,  and  very  beautiful — a  little  morse) 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  311 

of  Greece  set  clown  in  tlie  heart  of  the  old  Etruscau 
town.  We  siiall  leave  Assisi  early,  so  as  to  go  into 
the  great  church  of  Santa  Maria  degl'  Angeli,  about 
a  mile  from  the  town. 

Peeugta. 

May  27th. — We  arrived  in  good  season  at  this  cel- 
ebrated city,  and  Gaetano  brought  us  to  the  Grande 
Hotel  de  France,  where  v/e  are  very  comfortable  for 
our  two  days'  and  nights'  sojourn.  Our  journey 
from  Assisi  was  superb,  as  all  our  route  has  been. 
We  first  drove  to  the  vast  Church  of  Santa  Maria, 
peculiarly  interesting  as  associated  with  St.  Francis. 
In  the  very  midst  of  it  is  the  old,  humble  stone 
chapel  in  which  he  estabhshed  his  order — once 
frescoed  all  over,  but  now  dimmed  and  faded,  so  that 
scarcely  a  form  can  be  made  out.  Fancy  a  defaced 
hut  built  of  stones,  planted  in  the  crossing  of  the 
lofty  arches  of  the  transepts.  Earthquakes  have 
once  shaken  down  the  vast  superstructure  (since 
restored),  but  the  lowly  chapel  remained  unharmed. 
Over  the  arch  of  its  fagade,  Overbeck  has  painted  a 
famous  fresco  of  the  vision  of  St.  Francis,  very  bright, 
and  with  one  lovely  face  and  figure.  The  old  verger 
took  us  into  a  tiny  stanza,  covered  with  beautiful 
majestic  saints  and  seers  by  Lo  Spagna,  fellow-saints 
of  St.  Francis  ;  but  they  are  much  faded  and  injured. 
After  we  began  to  see  in  the  dark  little  cell,  divine 
faces  beamed  upon  us,  with  the  usual  sacred  bend 
of  the  devout  heads  and  forms,  so  like  prayers  and 


312  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

praises,  infinitely  affecting  and  attractive.  Tins  is 
preraphaelite  painting,  I  suppose,  as-  it  was  before 
Kaphael ;  but  what  is  called  preraphaelite  painting 
in  England  is  not  like  this.  Expression  without 
beautj^,  to  be  sure,  we  see  in  modern  English  pictures, 
called  by  this  name  ;  but  all  the  religion  is  left  out, 
all  the  holy  fervor,  sincerity,  aucl  simplicity.  Per- 
haps I  should  not  say  the  sincerity  is  left  out ;  but 
the  simplicity  is — the  single  thought — the  uupelfish 
aim.  And  the  color  in  these  ancient  pictures  is  pure 
and  harmonious.  It  is  a  bouquet  of  flowers,  a  bit  of 
the  rainbow, — a  sunset,  yet  all  flowing  and  blended. 
It  is  also*  a  carcanet  of  jewels.  The  holy  artists  did 
not  think  it  incumbent  upon  their  truth  and  sincerity 
to  paint  every  hair  on  the  skin,  or  the  rough  ferocity 
of  the  weather-beaten,  sunburnt  complexion — such 
as  I  shrunk  from  in  the  galleries  of  England.  In  the 
living  subject,  Nature  contrives  to  avoid  this  shock- 
ing bareness — but  the  prying  modern  artist  seems 
to  take  magnifying  glasses  to  the  human  face,  as  well 
as  to  the  landscape — and  bring  to  view  what  is  veiled 
from  common  sight.  Oh,  why  does  not  some  one 
draw  and  engrave  the  divine  creations  of  the  old 
masters'  in  fresco,  before  they  are  all  faded  avfay ! 
I  should  think  Pio  Nono  would  be  better  employed 
in  preserving  such  works  from  destruction  than  in 
writing  encyclical  letters  ;  for  I  believe  he  would  save 
more  souls  by  it.  If  any  visible  thing  can  win  a  soul 
to  Heaven,  it  is  this  embodied  worsliip  in  spirit  and 
in  truth.     He  wishes  to  take  jewels  from  his.  tiara  to 


BOME  TO  FLORENCE.  313 

excavate  treasures  from  Eoman  soil,  and  I  sliould 
be  obliged  to  liim  if  lie  would ;  but  I  would  tliank 
him  more  for  sending  the  best  artists  all  about  Italj 
to  secure  from  the  walls  these  vanishing,  irreplace- 
able miracles  of  human  genius,  painted  in  awful 
reverence  and  love  and  childlike  faith,  without  a 
thought  of  earthly  fame.  Lo  Spagna,  next  to  Ra- 
phael, was  the  most  eminent  of  the  scholars  of  Pe- 
rugino.  Andrea  del  Ingegno  was  another,  he  ^yho 
painted  the  sibyls  and  prophets,  which  Raphael  so 
much,  admired.  Dono  Doni  painted  the  angelic  face 
of  St.  Stephen,  which  I  lately  saw,  and  Gentile  da 
Fabriano,  whose  picture  of  the  Yirgin  with  angels, 
now  in  the  Colonna  Palace,  we  could  not  sufficiently 
admire,  was  a  predecessor  of  Perugino,  and  one  of 
the  oldest  masters  of  the  Umbrian  school. 

After  leaving  this  interesting  church  in  a  kind  of 
despair  at  its  fading  glories,  our  way  lay  through  a 
rich  pkxin  of  Shinar,  and  during  nearly  the  whole 
route,  we  could  see,  on  a  lofty,  distant  mountain,  the 
city  of  Perugia,  marked  by  a  very  high  campanile 
and  a  flush  of  red  along  the  summit,  caused  by  the 
tiled  roofs  of  the  houses.  I  did  not  comprehend 
how  we  were  to  attain  this  "  city  on  a  hill,  which 
could  not  be  hid,"  unless  our  horses  turned  Pegasuses 
or  we  became  angels.  Gaetano  presently  began  to 
prepare  for  the  ascent  b}^  a  deep  and  sonorous  call,  that 
filled  the  air  and  the  welkin  ;  and  he  was  responded 
to  by  another  far-reaching  and  powerful  voice.  He 
called  for  oxen,  and  by  the  time  Ave  arrived  at  the 

14 


314  NOTES  m  ITAI.Y. 

farm-liouse,  ou  the  road,  a  man  appeared  vatli  two 
■white  steers — "  milk-white  steers" — which  were  at- 
tached by  strong  cords  to  our  carriage  and  horses. 
All  alighted  and  walked,  excepting  myself — though 
one  or  two  gave  out  before  the  end ;  but  three  of  us 
actually  climbed  up  to  Perugia  on  their  feet — R. 
onlj^  failing  at  the  very  last,  part  of  the  way.  We 
entered  Etruria  over  a  bridge,  Ponte  San  Giovanni, 
and  drove  through  the  vale  of  the  Tiber  before  we 
began  to  mount ;  on  every  side,  endless  splendors  of 
scenery. 

We  walked  out  as  soon  as  we  arrived,  after  cle- 
jeune.  A  guide  accosted  us,  but  we  refused  him  for 
this  afternoon,  and  tried  to  find  places  ourselves. 
We  went  to  the  Church  of  St.  Domenic,  pretty  near 
the  hotel,  where  we  found  some  great  wonders.  A 
ferret-eyed  sacristan  seized  upon  us  directly,  and 
accompanied  us  about,  though  I  told  him  we  had  no 
money  with  us.  We  began  to  think  him  quite  un- 
earthly, having  little  regard  to  the  gold  that  perishes  ; 
but  our  visions  of  his  heavenly-mindeduess  were  dis- 
pelled by  his  informing  me  that  he  would  come  to 
our  Locanda  for  payment.  He  first  took  us  into  the 
chapel  of  St.  Orsola,  to  show  us  some  pictures  of 
Fra  Angelico.  One  was  a  Madonna  and  Child — the 
child  such  a  glorified  innocence  as  never  was  por- 
trayed before.  He  sits  upon  the  Virgin's  knee,  and 
looks  straight  out  of  the  picture,  with  a  face  that 
might  make  the  world  SAveet  and  holy,  if  it  were 
often  enough  contemplated.     A  clear,  pure,  spiritual 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  315 

radiance  beams  from  it,  witli  colors  so  delicate  that 
T  can  compare  them  only  to  those  of  a  blush-rose,  a 
forget-me-not,  and  pale  amber,  gleaming  through  a 
lily.  Some  injury  to  the  cheek  of  Mary  destroys  tlie 
effect  of  her  once  lovely  face,  but  I  saw  that  it  was 
once  lovely,  and  it  is  turned  upon  the  child.  On 
the  side  of  this  picture  hangs  one  containing  St. 
Domenic  and  St.  Anthony  of  Florence.  St.  Anthony 
is  one  of  the  grandest  and  serenest  of  figures— its 
grandeur  showing  that  there  was  no  lack  of  strength 
in  Fra  Angelico.  He  stands  in  superb  robes,  reading 
a  book  with  entire  absorption  of  attention.  Calm, 
majestic,  noble,  benign,  the  repose  of  Eternity  has 
passed  into  his  countenance  and  form.  The  very 
folds  of  his  gorgeous  drapery  have  the  grandeur 
of  mountain  ranges,  sweeping  down  into  valleys. 
Thought  and  praj-er  are  the  phylacteries  upon  his 
brow.  He  looks  as  immutable,  in  his  collected 
Faith,  as  Soracte.  Crimson,  purple,  and  gold 
throw  around  him  all  the  prestige  they  can,  but  the 
moonlight  of  peace  about  his  closed  lips  transcends 
rainbows.  There  sat  the  baby  Prince  of  Peace 
close  by,  whose  revelations  were  to  evoke  this  sub- 
lime content  in  St.  Anthony — a  content  that  neu- 
tralizes all  the  great  and  petty  trials  of  life — a  con- 
tent glorious  enough  to  be  embodied  in  the  form  of 
an  archangel  Michael,  holding  in  a  leash  of  iron  the 
evil  that  opposes  good.  St.  Anthony's  foot  was  on 
the  dragon  as  effectually  as  that  of  the  celestial 
hierarcli  of  Guido  or  of  Raphael. 


616  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

On  tlie  otlier  side  is  St.  Catharine,  queenly  as 
queen  should  be,  but  at  the  same  time  gentle  and 
sweet  and  devout,  as  queens  not  often  are. 

"We  then  went  into  the  sacristy,  where  were  sev- 
eral heads  of  saints,  and  two  pictures  by  Giannicola. 
One  is  of  the  Madonna  and  St.  John.  It  is  plain  at 
a  glance  that  they  have  just  come  from  Calvary, 
after  the  Crucifixion,  tliough  there  is  no  cross,  and 
nothing  represented  of  the  late  sacrifice — merely  the 
two  figures  walking.  Mary  is  a  little  in  advance  of 
St.  John.  Her  hands  are  tightly  clasped,  with  pro- 
found, repressed  agony.  She  looks  out  of  the  pic- 
ture with  a  pale  face  that  has  seen  death,  and  the 
death  of  one  who  is  life  of  her  life.  There  is  no 
distortion  of  grief,  though  unspeakable  grief  is  ex- 
pressed. The  head  is  shghtly  bent  on  one  side — a 
certain  terror  of  sorrow  is  in  her  wonderful  eyes,  as 
if  she  feared  to  know  how  bereft  she  is,  and  how 
awful  a  scene  she  has  witnessed.  The  sword  is 
cutting  into  her  heart  at  this  moment ;  she  is  feel- 
ing its  keenest  pain.  A  mute  appeal  is  in  her  gaze — 
a  desert  of  woe— the  most  heart-smiting  pathos. 
Both  the  figure  and  face  are  also  noble.  St.  John 
can  do  nothing  for  her  yet.  God  alone  can  minister 
to  her  vast  dismay,  which  invests  her  with  a  heroic 
dignity.  John  turns  his  countenance  toward  the 
Cross,  evidently,  though  none  is  visible.  He  finds 
it  hard  to  leave  even  the  ruined  Temple  of  his  Lord ; 
but  there  seems  a  marvellous  light  falling  on  his 
features  from  afar,  as  if  the  love  of  Christ  shone 


BOMB  TO  FLORENCE.  317 

upon  tliem.  Like  Marj,  he  is  of  noble  figure  and 
air,  and  a  tender  grace  sways  liis  movement.  I  am 
sure  his  face  is  bathed  in  tears.  He  extends  his 
hands  toward  Calvary,  with  impassioned,  wild  sor- 
row. I  think  John  is  not  now  occupied  ^ith  his 
new  care  of  Mary  :  he  is  only  intent  on  his  own  loss, 
and  yet  a  cord  already  binds  them  together. 

The  pendant  to  this  is  Elizabeth  and  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  but  I  cannot  recall  its  details  now ;  for 
though  admirable,  it  is  yet  far  excelled  by  the  other. 
In  the  sacristy  are  other  injured  small  pictures  by 
Tra  Angelico,  beautiful  as  far  as  they  can  be  seen. 

In  a  very  dim  aisle  of  the  church,  we  were  shown 
a  large  painting  of  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi, 
whose  author  was  doubtful ;  but  it  w\as  a  great  work. 
Gentile  da  Fabriano  or  Bonfigli  is  supposed  to  be 
the  artist.  Often  these  pictures  are  thought  to  be 
composed  by  several  artists  together,  and  the  verger 
said  this  one  was. 

But  the  other  treasure  of  St.  Domenic  is  a  small 
masterpiece  of  Perugino,  called  St.  Columba.  Un- 
derneath it  is  written  a  verse  from  the  Canticles, 
in  Latin  :  "  Show  me  thy  face,  my  dove,  my  beloved, 
at  the  threshold  of  the  door,"  or  something  to  that 
effect.  St.  Columba  stands  in  the  Domenican  habit, 
holding  a  dove,  and  round  her  veiled  head  is  a 
Avreath  of  white  daisies.  The  Domenican  habit  is  a 
white  under-vest,  with  a  black  chasuble  that  goes 
over  the  back  of  the  head,  and  falls  in  folds  over  the 
figure.     The  face  is  divinel}^  beautiful ;  divine  in  ex- 


318  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

pression,  and  perfectly  beautiful  in  feature,  'witli  a 
pure,  silvery  color,  like  that  of  the  dove  she  holds 
in  her  hands.  The  head  inclines  to  the  left  a  little. 
It  is  entrancing  beauty  combined  with  heavenly 
purity,  and  there  is  a  something  for  v/hich  there  are 
no  words,  in  the  deeply  religious  pictures  of  that 
age,  before  which  we  must  bow  in  silence.  It  is 
something  that  transcends  mortal  capacity,  and 
must  have  affected  the  artist  as  it  affects  us  who 
look  at  his  work.  I  cannot  doubt  that  Perugino 
was  awe-struck  by  this  face  and  presence ;  for  his 
prayer  and  his  faith  brought  down  from  heaven  into 
it,  what  was  not  in  pencil  or  palette,  nor  in  his  own 
consciousness.  To  the  great  state  of  St.  Columba's 
innocence,  let  kings  bow  their  crowned  heads.  She 
is  as  inaccessible  in  her  lily  spotlessness  as  the 
moon  riding  in  the  blue  abysses.  Let  the  stars 
wait  upon  her  as  well.  I  am  wholly  baffled  in  try- 
ing to  describe  her,  for  she  is  ineffable. 

We  tried  to  find  San  Pietro  in  Martire,  said  to 
contain  a  famous  Madonna  of  Perngino,  but  we 
could  not  succeed,  and  so  we  went  to  a  height  over- 
looking a  grand  sweep  of  mountain  and  vale,  to 
watch  the  sun  set,  before  dinner.  The  clouds  were 
sultry,  and  we  did  not  witness  so  fine  a  pageant  as 
we  expected,  though  it  was  worth  looking  at ;  and 
the  snow-crested  Apennines  carried  me  off  into 
dreamland.  After  dinner  we  thought  we  would  go 
and  watch  the  moon  rise,  but  it  became  so  cloudy 
we  gave  it  up. 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  315 

May  28tli. — We  tried  to  do  \Aithout  a  guide  to- 
da}^,  bnt  finally  were  obliged  to  submit  to  one,  after 
several  wearj^  efforts  to  find  places  alone.  "We  first 
strayed  to  an  outlook,  different  to  the  one  we  found 
last  evening,  whicli  commanded  even  a  more  magnifi- 
cent scene ;  and  while  solacing  ourselves  witli  it,  a 
young  man  saluted  us,  and  asked  if  we  wished  to 
see  the  Sala  di  Cambio.  As  this  was  the  identical 
"  Sala"  we  had  been  seeking  for  an  hour,  we  con- 
cluded to  let  him  take  possession  of  us,  at  least  to 
the  entrance  o:  that. 

I  expected  a  very  large  hall,  but  it  was  a  small  and 
low  apartment,  long  ago  used  as  an  exchange,  but 
now  left  to  the  kings,  prophets,  sibyls,  and  gods  of 
Perugino  and  Eaphael.  One  compartment  of  the 
walls  contains  the  six  sibyls  and  six  prophets,  and  the 
Eternal  Father  above  them.  On  another  are  heroes 
and  philosophers,  with  virtues  enthroned  over  their 
heads.  Opposite  the  door  of  entrance  are  the 
Nativity  and  Transfiguration.  Cato  is  on  one  side 
of  the  door.  On  the  roof  are  exquisite  arabesques, 
and  the  gods,  as  the  planets,  in  chariots  drawn  by 
nymphs,  birds,  and  animals,  Apollo  in  the  midst. 
Among  the  prophets,  Perugino  has  placed  Eaphael 
as  David,  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel.  It  is  one  of 
those  portraits  of  Eaphael  which  Perugino  alone 
could  paint,  and  Eaphael  alone  could  inspire.  Kn 
infinite  grace  m  the  head  and  movement,  a  wondrous, 
princely  beauty, — recalling  his  other  portrait  of  Ea- 
phael in  the  great  picture  of  the  Eesurrectioii  in  the 


320  NOTES  IJSr  ITALY. 

Pinacotlieca  of  the  Yatican.  In  that,  Le  is  one  of  tlio 
sleeping  soldiers,  his  beautiful  head  reposing  on  one 
arm,  and  the  profile  of  his  face  given.  As  David, 
he  looks  straight  forward.  A  portrait  of  Perugino, 
by  himself,  hangs  on  a  pilaster,  between  the  hings 
and  heroes.  His  Socrates  is  ideal.  The  beloved 
old  snub  nose  is  omitted.  Indeed,  all  are  ideal  ex- 
cept Raphael,  and  he  is  ideal  in  his  real  beauty.  A 
rich,  sweet  fancy  it  was  that  brooded  and  traced  such 
forms  and  faces  for  these  illustrious  men — such  as 
they  ought  to  have,  according  to  their  historic  fame. 
As  to  the  roof,  it  is  plain  enough  that  Kaphael 
hold  the  23encil  there.  After  seeing  the  loggie  of 
the  Vatican,  I  knew  his  cunning  hand  in  those  lab- 
yrinths of  grace,  wreaths  of  wild  arabesques  encir- 
cling the  gods  and  goddesses — not  wild  "beyond 
the  reach  of  art"  and  beauty  of  beauty.  "Who  is  like 
Raphael?  He  is  the  perfect  flower  of  the  old 
schools,  the  rose  of  past  time,  the  opal  of  jcAvels. 
As  we  were  about  leaving  most  reluctantly,  the 
custode  of  the  hall  invited  us  to  enter  wdiat  he  called 
the  chapel.  It  is  small  and  covered  with  frescoes 
by  Giannicola,  and  a  Baptism  of  Christ  by  Peru- 
gino. There  saints  and  doctors,  all  living,  with  fine 
expressions,  and  one  sibyl  of  great  beaut}" — the 
Persican,  I  think.  A  young  artist  was  sitting  there, 
copying  the  groups  and  single  figures  with  a  lead- 
pencil,  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  and  with  the 
utmost  fidelity.  He,  and  others  as  accomplished 
and   faithful,  should   be    commissioned    to   save  in 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  831 

imperishable  lines  the  vanishing  masterpieces  of 
fresco-painting,  so  that  at  least  the  designs  and  ex- 
pression rnay  not  be  lost,  though  the  color  elude 
seizure.  There  was  some  wood-carving  in  the  Sala, 
but  I  do  not  know  what  it  was,  I  was  so  absorbed 
by  the  frescoes  ;  but  as  it  was  designed  by  Perugino, 
it  must  be  worth  study. 

We  then  went  to  Sant  Agostino,  where  are  a  good 
many  oil-pictures  by  Perugino,  but  many  of  them 
much  injured.  Two,  however,  are  entirely  preserved. 
They  hang  on  each  side  the  entrance,  one  the  Bap- 
tism, and  the  other  the  Nativity  of  Christ.  Both 
are  fine,  but  the  Baptism  pre-eminent.  The  figures 
of  Christ  and  St.  John  are  of  delicate  proportions 
and  very  graceful.  John  looks  up  to  heaven  as  he 
is  about  to  pour  the  water  upon  the  sacred  head. 
Christ  looks  down,  with  hands  folded,  I  think,  upon 
his  breast.  One  such  picture  only  ought  to  be  seen 
in  a  day,  and  I  have  seen  so  many !  I  remember 
well  the  ecstatic  reverence  and  joy  of  St.  John  as 
Christ  bids  him  "  fulfil  all  righteousness."  One  has 
"  a  shade  the  more,"  but  both  have  a  divine  expres- 
sion, and  both  are  in  fresh,  early  manhood.  The 
holy  dove  opens  the  realms  above,  and  behind  each 
kneels  or  stands  an  angel.  The  angel  attendant 
upon  St.  John  is  the  most  celestial  of  the  two. 
When  Perugino  painted  angels,  I  am  sure  they  must 
have  come  down  to  him  for  portraiture,  so  wonder- 
fully does  he  leave  out  time  and  sex,  and  give 
"  Thrones,  Dominations,  Princedoms,  Virtues,  Pow- 

14* 


322  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

erSj"  in  what  can  hardly  be  called  human  form,  so 
dimmed  has  become  "  God's  own  image"  in  man. 

In  the  Natiyity,  the  Joseph  is  fine,  and  Mary  most 
lovely,  gazing  in  adoring  wonder  at  the  newly-born 
babe  lying  on  the  ground  before  them.  "We  looked 
at  all  the  works  said  to  be  by  Perugino,  or  Pietro, 
as  the  old  sacristan  called  him ;  for  his  name  was 
Pietro  Yanucci,  and  the  cognomen  he  goes  by  is  as 
if  one  said  "  the  Perugiau." 

We  tried  to  get  into  the  Palazzo  Staffa  then,  but 
that  and  the  Palazzo  Baldeschi  were  shut,  and  so 
we  came  home  to  go  again  after  lunch  with  Ada  in 
addition,  as  I  felt  very  uneasy  not  to  have  her  see 
all  that  we  did.  We  told  the  guide  to  be  at  hand  at 
half-past  two^ — and  he  came  duly,  and  we  went  first 
to  the  Church  of  San  Francesco  dei  Conventuali. 
It  was  the  hour  of  siesta,  and  the  monks  were  so 
fast  asleep  that  our  guide  found  it  difficult  to  rouse 
them ;  and  meanwhile  we  were  occupied  in  looking 
at  a  remarkable  facade  of  the  Confi-aternita  of  St. 
Bernard,  by  Agostino  della  Pobbia.  It  is  ail  in 
colored  marbles,  carved  in  figures  of  saints  and 
angels,  with  wreaths  of  flowers  and  fruits,  and  every 
possible  invention,  as  various  as  fancy  could  make 
them.  At  last  an  evil-looking  friar  appeared,  and 
admitted  us.  We  saw  a  martyred  St.  Sebastian, 
painted  by  Perugino  when"  an  old  man  ;  but  I  can- 
not characterize  that,  because  all  the  pictures  in  that 
church  are  so  completely  extinguished  by  one  on  the 
right  of  the  chief  entrance.     It  is  a  large  composi- 


nO^TE   TO  FLORENCE.  323 

tion  of  several  saints,  St.  Sebastian  being  one,  and 
this  St.  Sebastian  surpasses  all  other  conceptions  of 
liim  Tritlnn  my  present  experience.  He  is  not  liere 
transfixed  A^dtli  arrows,  but  stands,  in  the  prime 
splendor  of  youth,  a  perfect  heroic  form,  in  a  rich 
corselet  and  sandals,  like  an  archangel,  and  a  marvel- 
lous helmet  of  open  tracery,  which  I  cannot  forgive 
myself  for  not  sketching,  as  it  is  altogether  unique 
for  airy  elegance,  unlike  any  other  device  that  was 
ever  put  upon  a  head, — and  now  I  have  lost  it  for- 
ever. It  presses  lightly  on  the  fair  golden  hair,  and 
gives  the  crowning  charm  to  a  face  so  attractive  and 
winning  in  its  princely  state,  that  in  my  heart  I  pro- 
nounced him  the  ideal  cavalier,  the  gentlest,  the 
bravest,  the  truest ;  while,  added  to  all  this,  the  hand 
of  the  master  has  sanctified  him  with  heavenly  grace, 
and  he  stands  confessed  a  holy  saint,  as  well  as  a  hero. 
It  is  a  transfiguring  of  human  elegance  into  divine 
beauty,  such  as  I  could  not  have  conceived  possible, 
and  such  as  a  Co-Raphaelite  or  a  Pre-Raphaelite  only 
could  have  delineated.  I  thought  it  must  be  St. 
George  of  Cappadocia,  and  insisted  upon  it ;  and 
that  what  they  called  an  arrow  was  a  spear  :  but  the 
monk  and  guide  objected,  and  I  now  find  that  Mar- 
ray  calls  him  St.  Sebastian  also.  It  afflicted  me  so 
much  to  know  that  I  should  never  see  him  again, 
that  I  gazed  with  a  trembling  eagerness,  and  took 
no  time  to  glance  at  the  other  saints. 

There  was,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  nave,  an 
admirable  copy  of  Raphael's  Entombment,  which  I 


S24  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

could  really  bear  to  look  at.  The  original  belonged 
to  this  churcli,  and  I  think  it  an  unpardonable  rob- 
bery of  Paul  Y.  to  have  taken  it  away,  and  put  a 
copy  in  its  place.  He  was  a  Prince  Borghese,  and 
stole  it  for  his  ovv'n  palace,  where  I  saw  it  in  Rome. 
"Why  should  a  Pope  steal  any  more  than  a  private 
person  ?  Does  his  position  as  Head  of  the  Church 
make  the  crime  less?  I  should  think  he,  of  all  per- 
sons, should  obey  the  commandments. 

We  went  into  the  Sacristy  to  see  some  curious 
pictures  by  Pisanello  of  the  life  of  St.  Bernardin. 
They  are  composed  of  small  figures  in  the  costumes 
of  Pisanello's  times,  which  the  guide  said  were 
"  molte  gentili."  There  was  great  spirit  in  the  atti- 
tudes and  heads,  and  I  should  have  liked  to  exam- 
ine them  minutely,  as  I  Avould  Hogarth's,  but  there 
was  no  time  for  it. 

"We  also  went  to  Santa  ^iaria  Nuova,  and  of  all  I 
saw  there,  the  archangel  Gabriel,  in  an  Annuncia- 
tion, made  most  impression  upon  me.  It  is  supposed 
to  be  by  Bonfigii,  the  master  of  Perugino.  The 
angel  kneels,  with  hands  folded  upon  the  breast,  in 
one  of  which  is  the  branch  of  lilies.  The  beautiful, 
large  lids  are  cast  down,  the  face  is  very  fair,  the 
bend  of  the  head  most  stately  and  graceful.  Its 
presence  makes  a  broad  circle  of  light  arouud,  and 
while  the  celestial  messenger  pays  homage,  he  also 
commands  it,  by  the  singular  majesty  of  his  bearing. 
Two  lesser  Princedoms  wait  upon  his  stale  behind. 
I  see  by  this  how  Perugino  was  taught  to  paint  arch- 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  335 

awgels  and  angels;  but  who  taught  Bonfigii?  and 
must  not  religious  faith  have  inspired  both  equally  ? 
After  the  mechanics  and  technics  of  the  art  were 
learned,  sincere  devotion  effected  the  rest,  I  believe. 

An  Adoration  of  the  Magi  by  Perugino,  in  his 
best  manner,  hangs  beside  this  Annunciation,  in 
■which  he  has  painted  himself,  and  our  guide  and  the 
priest  had  a  fierce  battle  over  it,  disputing  which 
vf  as  the  portrait  of  the  artist.  The  priest  had  a  long 
pole  in  his  hand  to  point  with,  and  I  began  to  fear 
•they  woidd  proceed  to  batter  one  another,  in  the  very 
presence  of  the  infant  Prince  of  Peace.  The  early 
style  of  Pern  gin  o  is  not  so  simple  as  the  later  one. 

We  then  went  to  San  Severo,  to  find  Eaphael's 
first  fresco.  It  represents  Christ,  with  saints  below, 
and  the  Lord  with  angels  above ;  but  it  is  so  very 
much  defaced  that  we  could  not  see  it  well.  All 
that  was  visible  showed  the  peerless  hand,  however. 

This  afternoon  we  found  entrance  into  the  Palazzo 
Conestabili  Staffa,  where  is  the  celebrated  Staffa  Ma- 
donna of  Pv-aphael,  a  very  small  and  exquisite  picture, 
as  highly  finished  as  a  miniature.  The  Prince  has 
enclosed  this  most  precious  gem  in  a  case,  with 
thick  plate-glass  over  it,  locked  with  a  padlock.  I 
was  well  acquainted  with  it  through  a  good  copy 
of  it  in  Rome,  b}^  Mr.  Thompson ;  so  good,  that 
the  Prince  himself  was  highly  pleased  with  it,  and 
said  it  was  the  only  worthy  copy  that  had  yet  been 
made,  and  that  no  one  before  had  caught  the  pecu- 
liar delicacy  of  the  infant's  head.     Mar^'  is  reading, 


S36  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

and  the  child  turns  to  look  on  the  book,  and  puts  hi» 
little  hand  on  the  open  page.  It  is  as  perfect  as  a 
work  of  art  can  be  ;  not  one  careless  touch  in  it  all. 
Mr.  Thompson's  copy  is  good,  but  what- can  be  said 
of  Raphael's  creation  ?  How  could  wise  and  great 
Mr.  E.  say  such  a  preposterous  thing  as  tha,t  it  was 
just  as  well  not  to  travel  as  to  travel !  and  that  each 
man  has  Europe  in  him,  or  something  to  that  effect  ? 
No,  indeed  ;  it  would  be  better  if  every  man  could 
look  upon  these  wonders  of  genius,  and  grow 
thereby.  Besides,  after  Mr.  E.  had  been  to  Europe* 
himself,  liow  conld  he  tell?  Would  he  willingly 
have  foregone  all  he  saw  in  Italy?  It  was  mere 
transcendental  nonsense — ^such  a  remark. 

A  peace  that  passes  all  vmderstanding  breathes 
from  this  little  picture.  The  lovely  head  of  the 
young  mother  has  the  sky  for  background,  and  a 
delicate  landscape  stretches  far  away,  with  a  fairy 
tree  in  the  middle  distance.  The  pure,  noble,  serene 
brovv^,  the  downcast  lids — half-moons,  fringed  with 
shadows — the  soft  bloom  of  the  oval  cheeks,  the 
mouth,  gently  closed  in  full,  rich  curves,  as  fresh  as 
the  dawn,  all  blended  into  an  expression  of  earnest 
thought,  combine  to  make  this  Madonna  the  Begina 
Angelorum.  The  wonderful  face  is  crowned  with  a 
high  head-dress,  encircled  with  a  glory ;  and  the 
robe  is  deep  crimson  embroidered  with  gold,  with  a 
blue  mantle.  The  elaborate  finish  of  the  group  re- 
called to  me  the  illuminated  missal,  of  tiny  size, 
which  the  Countess  of  Waldegrave  showed  me  at 


BOME  TO  FLORENCE.  327 

Nuneliam  Courtney,  wlierL  we  went  to  see  her  while 
we  were  at  Oxford.  It  was  the  cunning  work  of 
Raphael,  and  the  miniatures  were  as  brilliant  as 
jewels.  The  missal  was  not  more  than  three  inches 
square,  and  the  pictures  in  it  were  in  proportion. 
The  diligence  of  Raphael  seems  superhuman,  when 
I  think  of  all  he  accomplished  in  so  few  years,  in 
such  a  finished  manner  too — no  hurry  and  no  care- 
lessness— and  he  himself  so  beautiful  and  sweet, 
that  his  creations  were  the  inevitable  flowering  of 
his  nature.  He  was  the  culmination  of  art.  No 
one  would  dream  or  pretend  to  excel  him,  and  to 
equal  him  who  would  succeed  ? 

We  saw  in  the  Staffa  Palace  a  beautiful  Santa 
Bjosa,  by  Sasso  Ferrato.  She  is  a  Perugian  saint, 
and  in  the  Domenican  habit,  I  think. 

Our  guide  also  took  us  to  the  University,  where 
was  nothing  particularly  interesting  till  we  came  to 
the  Pinacotheca,  but  it  -was  worth  any  amount  of 
toil  to  see  there  the  clief-cV oeuvre,  or  one  of  the  chefs- 
d'ceuvre,  of  Pinturicchio,  in  which  I  saw  at  last  a 
head  and  face  of  Christ  which  I  entirely  liked.  He 
has  bov\'ed  Himself  and  given  up  the  ghost,  but  the 
glory  of  the  soul  still  sheds  light  on  the  body  v/hich 
was  so  pure  that  it  was  almost  spirit.  In  this,  at 
last,  I  found  consummate  beauty  without  feebleness, 
noblest  dignity  with  perfect  grace,  holiness  with 
majesty,  peace  with  strength.  The  apostle  says  we 
"  are  temples  of  the  living  God,"  but  this  was  the 
only  form  which  was  worthy  to  be  completely  filled 


328  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

witli  tliat  Presence,  and  Piiituriccliio  lias  pictured  it. 
I  wonder  I  have  never  heard  it  spoken  of.  Alas  I  I 
am  even  now  losing  the  vividness  of  it,  and  bj  and 
by  I  shall  not  recall  it,  I  fear ;  but  I  will  remember 
that  it  struck  to  my  heart  with  its  divine  power, 
sweetness,  and  greatness.  This  is  the  artist  who,  iu 
Rome,  frames  his  Madonnas  in  cherubic  heads — 
roses  of  God,  whose  calyces  are  wings ;  but  many 
of  the  ancient  masters  were  in  the  habit  of  em- 
broidering the  air  with  these  flowers.  They  illu- 
mine the  clouds  also,  as  if  to  show  that  Our  Father 
is  present  even  in  v/hat  seems  to  us  to  be  shadows. 
What  a  tender  manner  of  teaching  this  eternal  truth  ! 
They  also  enrich  the  glories  round  the  heads  of 
saints,— beaming  faces,  that  embody  and  make  ap- 
prehensible to  human  perception  the  encircling, 
divine  love  that  answers  to  faith  and  good  works. 
If  painters  now  were  holy  men,  and  dedicated  their 
genius  to  heaven,  perhaps  angels  and  cherubs  would 
still  live  to  their  imagination,  and  so  to  our  eyes, 
through  their  pencils.  But  wliat  watery,  theatrical, 
unspiritual,  impossible  angels  v/e  have  now-a-days ! 
In  the  University  halls  we  saw  a  very  singular 
work.  I  supposed  it  to  be  an  engraving  of  Piraphael's 
Belle  Jardiniere,  but  the  custode  told  us  that  it  was 
all  composed  of  almost  microscopically  small  words, 
written  with  a  pen. 

May  29th. — We  went  to  Saint    Domenico  after 
breakfast  to  s6e  St.  Columba,  and  to  pay  the  sharp. 


BOME  TO  FLOBENC'E.  Sat 

ferret-ejed  sacristan.  The  pilasters  were  hung  with 
crimson-damask,  in  preparation  for  the  festival  of 
Corpus  Christi,  next  Thursday.  After  looking  long 
at  the  sculptured  tomb  of  Benedict  XI.,  which  is  a 
very  celebrated  work  of  the  Eenaissance,  the  sacris- 
tan, who  had  been  assisting  at  mass,  in  St.  Orsola's 
chapel,  came  to  unveil  St.  Columba. 

*  *  w  -K-  -A  -;f 

We  afterward  found  the  Madonna  of  Perugino  we 
had  been  searching  for,  in  a  palace,  where  it  had 
been  taken  to  be  copied,  and  v/e  were  disappointed 
in  it.  Mary  sits  with  tlie  infant,  and  six  monks 
kneel  in  white  habits,  each  side  of  her.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  placed  at  advantage,  but  I  could  not  find  it 
so  exquisite  as  it  is  described.  Ada  and  I  then  set 
forth  by  ourselves  to  see  the  city,  and  suddenly  we 
arrived  at  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Lorenzo,  and  thought 
we  would  go  in  to  rest.  A  great  Function  was  pro- 
ceeding. A  Cardinal  v/as  on  his  throne,  and  several 
prelates  round  him,  and  the  altar  was  covered  with 
gold  sacramental  vessels,  and  the  organ-thunder 
was  rolling  through  the  great  spaces,  while  a  crowd 
of  people  stood  about.  'The  prelates  were  gorgeous- 
ly arrayed  in  crimson  cloth  of  gold.  AstheymoA-ed 
in  the  ceremon}*,  at  one  instant  they  were  flaming 
in  Tyrian  splendor,  and  at  another  glowing  in  creamy 
gold — so  magically  were  their  garments  woven.  I 
believe  Mrs.  Browning  somewhere  describes  cloth 
of  gold — but  it  is  necessary  to  see  it  on  moving 
forms,  to  estimate  its  magnificence.     The  Cardinal 


330  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Archbisliop.  had  a  red  and  gold  mitre  on  liis  liead, 
and  a  gold  crozier  in  his  hand.  It  was  a  superb 
picture.  There  was  a  blessing  of  candles,  as  at  Can- 
dlemas, and  high  mass  was  performed  at  the  altar. 
The  music  was  triumphant,  and  we  did  not  under- 
stand what  it  all  meant ;  but  afterward  we  heard 
that  at  Easter  this  Cardinal  was  ill,  so  that  to-day 
he  was  celebrating  Easter  !  He  was  probably  also 
ill  at  Candlemas,  for  he  was  celebrating  that  too. 

Lake  Theasymene. 

May  29th — Passignano. — Here  is  the  battle-field 
of  flannibal  and  Elaminius.  We  arrived  at  this  little 
towD,  on  the  immediate  shore  of  the  famous  lake,  at 
about  five,  and  took  a  walk  before  dinner.  Boatmen 
assailed  us  to  row  upon  the  water,  but  we  thought 
it  too  late.  The  little  children  began  to  beg,  and 
soon  we  counted  fort}^  beggars,  all  very  merry  and 
dirty,  importunate  and  inodorous.  Nothing  we  could 
do  or  say  would  disperse  them.  When  we  turned 
to  go  back,  they  all  turned,  but  finally  some  soldiers 
drove  them  aside,  so  that  we  strolled  beyond  the 
inn,  the  other  way,  with  some  comfort.  The  lake  is 
eight  miles  across  in  wide  parts,  and  thirty  miles  in 
circuit.  Low  hills,  rising  often  into  hjgh  mountains, 
are  on  the  shores  for  miles,  and  also  extensive  plains 
stretch  away,  level  with  the  water,  on  one  of  which 
was  the  battle.  Acres  of  olive-trees,  emblems  of 
peace,  grow  in  all  directions.     The  olive  and  the 


BOME  TO  FLOllENCE.  331 

grapGj  and  waving  fields  of  grain  and  grass,  fill  tlie 
scene  with  verdure  and  beauty  and  promises  of 
plenty.  We  watched  the  sunset,  and  the  soft  tinth. 
purpling  the  hills.  U.  sat  down  on  a  rocky  beach, 
and  sketched  the  old  town,  which  pitches  headlong 
into  the  lake,  a  ruined  castle  making;  the  background 
and  apex.    We  found  lovely  plants,  and  it  all  seemed 

a  dream  of  enchantment.    J rushed  to  the  beach, 

as  the  hart  to  the  brook,  to  find  his  beloved  shells. 
E..  searched  for  her  equally  beloved  flowers,  and 
discovered  a  spike  of  new  purple  blossoms,  such  as 
we  had  never  seen  before. 

We  were  served  with  a  generous  dinner,  of  which 
the  poetical  part  was  the  course  of  fish  from  the 
classic  lake,  which  we  ate  reflectingly.  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  a  person  in  an  ancient  history  of  Kome.  Han- 
nibal's elephants  were  close  at  hand.  The  tent  of 
Flaminius  was  pitched  near  by — alas  for  him  !  Mem- 
ories of  v/ar,  defeat,  conquest,  alternated  with  the 
deep  peace  of  the  present  moment,  with  the  vines 
and  olives  and  fig-trees,  the  flocks  and  herds — the 
undisturbed  grain  waving,  the  birds  singing  rounde- 
lays, and  the  smooth  waves  lapsing  to  drown  the 
distant  tumult  of  war ;  so  real  and  profound  and 
wide  the  peace,  so  more  and  more  ghostly  and  van- 
ishing the  battle.  Wliile  I  dreamed  over  the  purple 
twilight,  the  moon  rose  opposite  our  Avindows.  First 
a  heap  of  clouds  took  fiery  hues,  like  the  reflection 
of  a  burning  city,  though  rather  more  pink  than 
red  ;  and  then  the  gold  rim  of  the  moon  marked  a 


333  -NOTES  IJY  ITALY. 

clear  arc  of  a  circle  over  the  mountain.  "When  it 
rose  a  little  higher,  a  column  of  silver  struck  clown 
from  its  full  orb  into  the  depths  of  the  lake,  and 
soon  the  whole  atmosphere  was  flood.ed  with  white 
radiance.  A  still  vaster  peace  rose  with  the  moon 
to  possess  tlie  earth.  I  will  write  to  E.  as  the  muse 
of  history,  before  I  sleep. 

Abezzo. 

May  30th. — We  left  Passignano  this  morning  at 
six,  and  when  we  arrived  at  the  Sanguinetto,  the 
small  river  that  ran  blood,  we  all  alighted  from  the 
carriage  to  look  about  us,  and  gather  olive-branches 
and  oak  to  weave  into  garlands — emblems,  as  U. 
happily  said,  of  "  Conquest  sealed  by  Peace."  On 
this  spot  the  battle  raged. 

"  Far  other  scene  is  Thrasymene  now — 
Her  lake  a  sheet  of  silver,  and  her  plain 
Rent  by  no  ravage  save  the  gentle  plongh," 

as  Byron  so  fitly  sings. 

We  soon  left  the  Papal  States,  and  entered  Tus- 
cany, and  stopped  to  show  our  passport.  A  fee  of 
ninety  cents  left  our  luggage  reposing  in  its  moun- 
tains of  dust  undisturbed — so  wise  and  courteous  is 
Tuscany ;  and  we  drove  merrily  on — I  might  say 
under  Tuscan  hats,  for  immediately  these  enormous 
disks  appeared,  forming  vast  backgrounds  to  the 
faces  of   t]:!e  peasantry.      While   we   were   waiting 


BOME  TO  FLORENCE.  33S 

about  tlie  passport,  I  sketched  the  lake  and  one  of 
its  three  islands — Isola  Maggiore.  We  passed  Ca- 
muscia  and  Corton;i  also,  -^vitli  its  great  church,  and 
convent  of  Santa  Margherita,  and  I  caught  its  out- 
line in  my  little  book.  "We  ought  to  have  visited  it 
for  its  pictui-es  and  antiquities.  It  crowns  a  moun- 
tain, like  so  many  cities  we  have  seen.  This  is  pecu- 
liarly interesting,  and  older  than  the  siege  of  Troy, 
and  it  is  the  Corythus  of  Yirgil.  So  now  we  came 
to  Arezzo,  the  birthplace  of  a  crowd  of  great  men. 
We  have  been  to  see  Petrarch's  house  and  the 
Cathedral  and  Santa  Maria  della  Piere,  once  the 
Temple  of  Bacchus.  Petrarch's  house  has  no  ap- 
pearance of  antiquity,  being  kept  in  excellent  rep:dr. 
It  is  not  a  large  edifice  ;  and  when  Ada  and  I  went 
to  look  at  it  a  second  time,  a  beautiful  dove  was 
perched  upon  the  upper  step  of  the  door,  and  so 
tame  that  Ave  approached  quite  near,  without  start- 
ling it.  I  thought  of  Laura,  haunting  the  spot. 
Opposite,  in  the  street,  is  Boccaccio's  vrell,  the 
scene  of  one  of  his  stories.  I  sketched  both,  and 
also  the  dove.  The  Cathedral  is  very  grand,  and 
has  the  most  superb  painted  glass — better  than  any 
in  England.  One  circular  window  over  the  west 
front  is  particularly  glorious ;  but  so  are  all.  One, 
"The  Calling  of  Matthew,"  Vasari  says,  "must  have 
descended  from  heaven  to  console  man,  for  it  never 
could  have  been  painted  on  earth."  Guillaume,  of 
Marseilles,  a  French  Domenican  monk,  was  the 
artist.     We  saw  also  a  shrine  of  marble,  by  Giovanni 


334  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

di  Pisa,  celebrated  for  its  wonderful  beauty,  illustra 
ting  the  life  of  St.  Donato.  A  row  of  angels  stand 
ing  in  Gothic  arches  were  especially  beautiful. 

Santa  Maria  delia  Piere  presents  a  very  remark- 
able fagade  to  the  street.  There  are  three  open 
arcades,  with  columns  that  differed  each  from  the 
others— fifty-eight  of  them;  and  one  column,  for 
lack  of  another  form  being  possible,  is  a  caryatid. 
The  Campanile  is  lofty,  with  five  series  of  little 
pillars.  We  intended  to  see  Vasari's  picture  of  St. 
George,  though  I  cannot  believe  he  is  a  great  artist ; 
but  it  was  veiled,  and  no  sacristan  appeared,  and 
mass  was  being  performed. 

The  streets  of  Arezzo  were  paved  with  large,  flat 
stones  of  different  shapes,  but  all  nicely  joined,  like 
those  of  the  Flaminian  Wa^^,  and  it  has  been  a  rest 
to  walk  upon  them,  after  the  long  torture  of  the 
pointed  Boman  pavements.  Honor  to  the  Grand 
Dukes  for  this  !  The  chief  street  has  been  thronged 
all  the  afternoon  with  the  citizens,  in  their  best  Sun- 
day array,  children  especially  dressed  gayly  and 
trimly,  like  French  children,  with  great  bravery  of 
crinoline  and  pinched  waists.  The  public  prome- 
nade, behind  the  Cathedral,  is  very  pleasant,  and 
commands  a  fine  view. 

On  Petrarch's  house  is  a  long  inscription  on  a 
slab,  recounting  his  birth  and  fame,  and  so  on  many 
other  houses  there  are  inscriptions  concerning  the 
illustrioiis  persons  who  were  born  and  lived  in 
them.     The  air  of  Arezzo  was  wholesome,  and  crea- 


ROME  TO  FLORENCE.  335 

tive  of  great  meu,  according  to  Michel  Angelo,  wlio 
was  born  at  Caprese,  near  by. 

This  great  hotel  was  doubtless  once  a  fine  palace, 
by  the  relics  of  old  grandeur  which  remain.  There 
is  no  end  to  ghostly  corridors  and  unexpected  doors, 
sudden  staircases  and  traps  in  the  walls,  arcades, 
lofty  apartments  and  covert  nooks.  But  it  is  "  faded 
splendor  wan"  now.  And  the  style  is  also  faded ; 
for  we  are  less  well  served  here  than  at  any  previous 
hotel  on  the  route.  Hitherto,  we  have  been  aoTee- 
ably  disappointed  in  the  inns  and  the  fare.  We 
have  found  them  uniformly  clean  and  comfortable, 
and  excellent  food  provided.  Indeed,  from  London 
to  Eome,  and  from  Rome  to  Arezzo,  we  have  had  no 
annoyance  from  Dogano,  or  anything,  or  anybody. 
There  is  not  a  thorn  on  the  rose  of  our  success. 


ni. 

FLOEENCE. 

June  5tli. — "We  arrived  here  on  the  31st  of  May, 
leaving  Arezzo  at  six  in  tlie  morning.  We  drove  np 
tlie  Yia  Fornace,  and  stopped  at  this  Casa  del  Bello, 
which  we  had  requested  Mr.  Powers  to  take  for  us. 
The  portress  said  it  was  not  taken  yet,  however, 
and  so  we  proceeded  to  a  hoteL  In  the  evening 
Mr.  Powers  called  to  see  us,  and  appointed  an  early 
hour  in  the  morning  for  us  to  go  and  examine  the 
apartment.  We  went  to  his  studio,  which  is  a  suite 
of  six  or  seven  rooms,  and  he  came  across  the  street 
with  us  to  the  Casa  del  Bello  (which  is  opposite  his 
house),  and  we  agreed  to  take  it  at  once.  It  is  a 
delightful  residence.  We  have  the  first  piano,  which 
opens  at  the  back  upon  a  broad  terrace,  leading 
down  into  a  garden  full  of  roses,  jessamine,  orange 
and  lemon  trees,  and  a  large  v/illow-tree,  drooping 
over  a  fountain  in  the  midst.  We  have  thirteen 
rooms  on  the  one  piano,  besides  four  kitchen-rooms 
beneath.  The  Casa  is  three  rooms  wide,  and  four 
deep — {fii'c-  in  one  of  the  rows) — and  we  are,  each 
one,  perfectly  accommodated,  and  each  one  can  be 


FLORENCE.  337 

alone  and  remote  from  the  others.  It  is  the  very 
luxury  of  comfort.  I  have  selected  the  best  of  the 
three  pai^ors  for  the  study.  It  is  hung  with  crimson 
velvety  hangings,  and  the  doors  are  draped  in  that 
graceful  way  they  have  in  Europe  ;  and  the  windows, 
of  course,  are  curtained, — for  there  is  not  a  wdndow 
on  this  side  the  ocean  undraped,  I  believe.  It  has 
an  ormolu  table,  two  couches,  four  stuffed  easy- 
chairs,  candelabras,  chandelier,  and  a  Turkey  carpet 
(an  unusual  grace).  It  gives  upon  the  garden,  'and 
there  is  no  sound  but  "  bird-A^oices"  that  can  reach 
it ; — the  very  ideal  of  a  study,  such  as  the  "  artist  of 
the  Beautiful"  ought  to  have,  but  which  till  now  he 
has  not  found.     *     *     *     *     * 

I  am  sitting  in  an  enchanting  boudoir,  a  gahinetto. 
*  -"-  *  *  The  only  light  is  through  a  glass  door 
which  opens  upon  the  terrace.  Green  trees  and 
shrubber}^  only  can  be  seen  as  I  sit,  excepting  small 
glimpses  of  sky  and  gold  sunshine,  and  four  or  five 
busts,  arranged  along  the  side  of  the  terrace.  A 
thatched  rustic,  bower  is  constructed  in  one  part, 
with  rustic  chairs  and  tables,-  where  one  can  read, 
write,  and  meditate.  Down  in  the  garden  are  other 
bowers,  seats,  and  tables.  A  small,  delicate  rose- 
vine  is  trained  over  the  iron  tracery  that  guards  the 
outer  side  of  the  terrace.  In  the  centre  of  our  2^iano 
is  a  drawing-room  that  can  never  be  too  warm  ;  for 
its  only  grea,t  window  looks  upon  an  inner  court 
where  the  sun  never  shiues.  And  we  have  a  star  to 
our  servant ;  for  Stella  is  her  name. 

15 


338  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

On  tlie  first  day  I  walked  out,  and  saw  tlie  outside 
of  the  Pitti  Palace, — a  vast  prison  of  a  palace,  grim 
and  hard  in  its  aspect.  I  saw  also  Benvenuto  Cel- 
lini's Perseus,  in  the  Loggia  de'  Lanzi.  I  had  seen 
a  fine  cast  of  it  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  could 
hardly  conceive  that  I  stood  before  the  original.  I 
passed  over  a  bridge,  and  saw  other  beautiful  bridges 
spanning  the  Arno,  and  the  city  rising  around;  but 
I  was  very  tired  after  the  journey,  and  have  stayed 
at  home,  since  we  have  had  a  home  again.  I  was 
amused  to  find  I  could  rest  in  fifteen  easy-chairs, 
disposed  about  the  rooms.  There  were  so  many, 
that  I  was  induced  to  count  them. 

Our  approach  to  Florence,  toward  the  sunset,  was 
perfectly  lovely.  It  reposes  in  the  hollow  of  many 
mountains  and  hills ;  and  its  glorious  Dome  and 
Campanile,  arched  bridges  and  palaces,  make  a  rare 
picture.  The  atmosphere  was  so  clear  that  we  saw 
the  lofty  Apennines  pointing  into  the  sky,  and  there 
was  a  purply-gold  splendor  over  all. 

Mr.  Powers  is  agreeably  simple  in  his  manners, 
with  wonderful  great  eyes.  la  his  studio,  that  first 
morning,  I  had  hurried  glimpses  of  a  bust  of  Mr. 
Sparks,  California,  and  Mrs.  Ward,  and  a  Psyche, 
with  a  butterfly  as  a  jewel,  clasping  the  bands  of 
her  hair — Proserpine,  and  many  more,  all  of  which 
I  shall  be  truly  glad  to  contemplate  at  leisure. 

June  6th. — After  tea  last  evening,  just  at  set  of 
sun,  we  went  out  for  a  walk,  and  promenaded  the 


FLOlxENCE.  339 

wliole  lengtli  of  the  Via  Fornace,  and  my  soles  were 
greatly  consoled  by  tlie  broad  flat  pavement.  All 
the  world  was  in  the  street  in  the  warm,  rosy  twi- 
light. At  the  end  of  the  Yia  we  came  upon  a  bridge 
which  crosses  the  xirno,  and  a  scene  of  varied  beauty 
opened  upon  us.  The  river  was  smooth  as  plate- 
glass,  and  all  of  Florence  that  was  near  it  ascended, 
or  rather  descended  into  the  pure  depths  of  the 
heaven  beneath.  It  was  not  possible  to  tell  where 
the  immaterial  city  began  and  "the  material  city 
ended.  All  the  arches  of  the  bridges  became  com- 
plete ovals.  The  thronging  crowds,  whether  they 
would  or  no,  became  spiritual  beings,  with  bonnets, 
hats,  and  crinolines  ;  and  horses  that  could  never  be 
whipped  nor  be  weary — and  carriages  that  never 
Avould  raise  the  dust — passed  in  glory  below.  On 
the  sunset  side  were  golden  -tints ;  but  our  way 
tended  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  we  were  soon 
swallowed  up  between  tall  houses  on  our  quest  of 
the  Duomo.  I  had  never  happened  to  hear  this 
Duomo  described,  so  that  I  had  not  the  slightest 
notion  of  it,  and  it  struck  me  as  an  undreamed-of 
wonder.  First  the  Campanile !  Campanile  and 
cathedral  both  appeared  to  be  covered  with  precious 
marbles — vast  mosaics.     As  the  inside  of  the  church 

is  quite  plain,  J declared  that  "  it  was  turned 

outside  in."  It  was  so  late,  we  merely  glanced  within, 
but  I  had  enough  to  do  to  look  at  the  exterior.  "We 
walked  entirely  round  it,  as  it  is  in  the  centre  of  a 
piazza,  and  so  we  gained  an  idea  of  its  immense 


340  X0TE8  IN  ITALY. 

size,  as  we  cannot  of  St.  Peter's,  Avliich  is  seen  only 
on  tlie  front,  and  is  also  dwarfed  b}"  the  vast  square, 
on  one  side  of  which  it  stands.  It  is,  besides,  built 
of  unornamented,  buff  travertine.  This  inlaying,  or 
rather  outlaying  of  various  marbles  in  patterns  has 
a  gorgeously-rich  effect.  The  forms  of  the  building 
have  also  a  Gothic  diversity,  though  perhaps  there 
is  a  certain  regularity  in  the  diversity  which  I  did 
not  at  once  detect.  The  windows  are  of  Gothic 
shape,  and  full  of  painted  glass,  which  U — ,  who 
has  been  inside,  says  is  superb.  All  the  doors  are 
carved  outside  with  heads  of  Bishops,  Cardinals, 
Popes,  and  perhaps  Grand  Dukes.  The  dome  is 
the  largest  in  the  world.  I  like  to  record  the  well- 
known  fact,  that  wdien  Michel  Angelo  set  forth  for 
Eome  to  build  St.  Peter's,  he  looked  back  at  this, 
and  said,  "  Like  it  I  will  not — better  I  cannot."  As 
we  walked  round,  the  cathedral  seemed  to  extend 
indefinitely,  like  a  city  in  itself,  enabling  me  to  per- 
ceive its  size  most  satisfactorily. 

I  should  not  have  supposed  that  a  square  tower 
could  be  beautiful ;  but  the  Campanile  is  exceed- 
ingly so, — all  in  mosaic,  like  the  Duomo,  and  nearly 
three  hundred  feet  high.  It  rises  alone,  quite  dis- 
connected from  the  cathedral,  and  is  at  the  same 
time  grand  and  beautiful.  One  of  my  peerless  old 
masters,  Giotto,  was  its  architect,  and  he  designed 
to  have  a  flame-like  spire  on  its  summit.  I  do  not 
know  why  it  is  not  there ;  for  I  think  it  would  be 
better  even  than  it  is  now,  if  it  climbed  into  the 


FLORENCE.  3-1 

heaveijs  like  fire — tliougli  to  add  to  it  would  be  like 
"painting  the  rose,"  and  certainly  no  one  should 
dare  to  finish  Giotto's  work.  As  he  left  it,  so  let  it 
remain.  How  can  it  have  such  indefinable  grace — 
a  straight  tower  as  it  is  ?  Giotto  must  have  diffused 
his  spirit  through  the  stones  and  lines.  One  of  its 
bells  rang  out  as  we  passed — a  deep,  round,  liquid 
sound,  which  immediately  made  me  think  of  the 
bulbul's  note.  It  was  music,  dropped  through  water, 
— a  novel,  peculiar,  and  a  sublime  tone,  worthy  of 
Giotto's  Campanile.  It  was  as  if  the  great  dome 
itself  had  rolled  from  the  soul  of  its  artist,  a  pure  globe 
of  melody,  and  dropped  singing  into  the  sea  of  space. 

The  Baptistery  is  opposite  the  Cathedral,  and  I 
looked  a  moment  at  the  gate  which  Michel  Angelo 
said  was  worthy  to  be  the  gate  of  Paradise.  I  was 
w^ell  acquainted  with  the  design  from  the  admirable 
bronzed  cast  of  it  in  the  Crystal  Palace  ;  but  in  the 
deep  twilight  I  could  not  see  it  distinctly. 

We  returned  by  the  way  of  the  Piazza  del  Gran 
Duca,  and  passed  the  Palazzo  Yecchio,  with  i''s 
strange  old  tower,  bulging  out  near  the  top  into  a 
balcony.  In  front  of  it  are  statues,  ail  colossal,  and 
one  of  them  is  Michel  Angelo's  David,  and  there  is 
a  noble  equestrian  statue  of  CosmQ  de  Medici.  It 
is  a  relief  not  to  see  P.  M.  after  every  name — pod- 
master,  as  some  one  used  always  to  read  it.  The 
Grand  Dukes  will  be  quite  a  pleasant  change  after 
the  Pontifex  Maximus. 

On   another  side   of   the    Piazza    are  three  lofty 


342  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

arclies  of  a.  wide,  high  loggia,  close  upon  the  Uffizzi 
Palace.  Beneath  it  are  statues.  On  the  left  of  this 
magnificent  Portico  we  entered  the  court  of  the 
Palace,  through  which  the  world  passes  to  the  Arno. 
Stately  open  arcades  extend  along  on  each  side, 
which,  bj  day,  are  filled  with  gay  merchandise  ;  but 
at  this  hour  they  were  empty  and  solemn,  and  sen- 
tinels were  pacing  up  and  down.  It  must  be  a  nice 
place  to  shop,  on  a  hot  or  rainy  day.  Between  the 
arches  are  niches,  in  which  stand  marble  statues  of 
Florentine  heroes,  artists,  statesmen,  and  poets  ;  and 
above  are  the  halls,  where  we  are  to  wander  and 
muse  on  masterpieces  of  genius. 

As  we  issued  from  the  dim  shade  of  the  court,  the 
golden  light  and  the  transparent  mirror  of  the  Arno 
burst  upon  us  like  a  symphony,  and  now  our  way 
was  toward  the  west,  still  glowing,  with  one  star 
brilliant  over  the  central  arch  of  a  bridge,  making 
the  apex  of  an  invisible  pjrramid.  All  being  re- 
flected, there  was  also  a  pyramid  below,  each  pointed 
"J  the  star,  so  that  the  ovals  of  the  arches  and  the 
pyramids  were  in  a  lovely  struggle  together. 

The  Lung-Arno  was  lighted  with  gas  along  its 
whole  extent,  making  a  cornice  of  glittering  gems, 
converging  in  the  distance,  and  the  reflection  of  the 
illujninated  border  below  made  a  fairy  show.  No 
painting,  and  scarcely  a  dream  could  er[ual  the 
magical  beauty  of  the  scene.  Florence  is  as  en- 
chanting as  I  expected.  It  is  a  place  to  live  ai.d  be 
happy  in — so  cheerful,  so  full  of  art,  and  so  ivelli3u,oed. 


FLORENCE.  8*J 

It  is  delicious  weatlier  to-day,  and  the  air  is  full 
of  the  songs  of  birds.  The  merlins  are  in  choir 
over  against  our  terrace,  in  a  wood  of  the  Torrigiani 
Gardens.  The  marble  busts,  on  their  pedestals^ 
seem  to  enjoy  themselves  in  the  bosky  shade.  The 
green  lizards  run  across  the  parapet,  and  to  exist  is 
a  joy.  J.  is  drawing  Pericles,  in  his  little  study, 
from  a  fine  photograph  of  the  marble  of  the  Vatican. 
U.  is  reading  Tennyson,  looking  moony  in  white 
mnslin.  R.  is  playing  with  Stella,  who  is  very  good, 
thouirh  not  as  brisfht  as  a  star.  Mr.  H.  is  luxu- 
riating  down  in  the  garden,  buried  up  in  roses  and 
jessamine.  "  If  the  air  stirs,  it  can  only  be  by  two 
contending  butterflies,"  as  Jean  Paul  says. 

Generally,  in  these  palatial  houses,  there  is  a  rez 
cliaussee  first,  then  an  entresol,  and  then  what  is  called 
the  first  ^jm??o,  and  so  on  to  the  top.  In  this  is  no 
entresol.  We  enter  a  great  arched  door  into  a  hall, 
along  which  pots  of  flowers  are  set,  leading  straight 
into  the  garden,  whose  delicious  green  shrubbery  we 
see  through  an  open  iron  gate.  On  the  left  of  the 
entrance  is  the  lodge  of  the  porter.  Midway  on  the 
right  is  the  great  staircase,  and  farther  on  there  are 
other  rooms  for  servants  and  stores.  The  legend  of 
this  Casa  del  Bello  is,  that  there  was  a  chief  of  the 
house  so  beautiful — ^the  handsomest  man  in  Florence 
— that  he  acquired  the  sobriquet  of  II  Bello. 

June  7th. — Yesterda}^  I  was  interrupted  in  writing 
by  the  announcement  of  Mr.  Powers.     He  made  us 


314  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

a  deliglitful  and  edifying  call,  of  more  than  twe 
hours.  He  expounded  his  ideas  of  form,  and  said 
that  color  was  nothing  needful  to  expression.  He 
seemed  to  think  there  were  no  good  busts,  except 
that  of  Caracalla,  and  he  said  Canova  always  mod- 
elled himself. 

June  8th. — We  have  been  to  the  hotel  New  York, 
to  call  on  the  Bryants — 

******* 

and  afterward  Mrs.  Powers  took  me  to  see  Casa 
Guidi,  and  the  palace  of  Bianca  Capella,  the  bronze 
boar,  and  other  things.  We  crossed  the  Ponte  de 
St.  Trinita,  and  the  Arno  was  pale  green,  very  grate- 
ful to  the  eyes  after  the  yellow  muddy  color  of  the 
Tiber  ;  but  I  should  not  like  to  hear  any  one  speak 
slightingly  of  the  Tiber. 

June  8th. — This  day  has  been  memorable  by 
my  seeing  Mr.  and  Mrs,  Browning  for  the  first  time. 
At  noon  Mr.  Browning  called  upon  us.  *  *  *  * 
His  grasp  of  the  hand  gives  a  new  value  to  life,  re- 
vealing so  much  fervor  and  sincerity  of  nature.  He 
invited  us  most  cordially  to  go  at  eight  and  spend 
the  evening,  *  *  *  *  *  and  so  at  eight  we 
went  to  the  illustrious  Casa  Guidi.  We  found  a 
little  boy  in  an  upper  hall,  with  a  servant.  I  asked 
him  if  he  were  Pennini,  and  he  said  "  Yes."  In  the 
dim  light  he  looked  like  a  waif  of  poetry,  drifted  up 
into  the  dark  corner,  with  long,  curling,  brov/n  hair, 


FLORENCE.  ■  343 

and  buff  silk  tuuic,  embroidered  with  wliite.  He 
took  us  tlirougli  an  ante-room,  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  out  upon  the  balcony.  In  a  brightei 
light  he  was  loveher  still,  with  brown  ej'es,  fair  skin, 
and  a  slender,  graceful  fit^ure.  In  a  moment  Mr. 
Browning  appeared,  and  welcomed  us  cordiallj.  In 
a  church  near  by,  opposite  the  house,  a  melodious 
choir  was  chanting.  The  balcony  was  full  of  flowers 
in  vases,  growing  and  blooming.  In  the  dark  blue 
fields  of  space  overhead,  the  stars,  flowers  of  light, 
were  also  blossoming,  one  by  one,  as  evening  deep- 
ened. The  music,  the  stars,  the  flowers,  Mr.  Brown- 
ing and  his  child,  all  combined  to  entrance  my  wits. 
Then  Mrs.  Browning  came  out  to  us — very  small, 
delicate,  dark,  and  expressive.  She  looked  like  a 
spirit.  A  cloud  of  hair  falls  on  each  side  her  face 
in  curls,  so  as  partly  to  veil  her  features.  But  out 
of  the  veil  look  sweet,  sad  eyes,  musing  and  far- 
seeing  and  weird.  Her  fairy  fingers  seem  too  airy 
to  hold,  and  jet  their  pressure  was  very  firm  and 
strong.  The  smallest  possible  amount  of  substance 
encloses  her  soul,  and  every  particle  of  it  is  infused 
with  heart  and  intellect.  I  was  never  conscious  of 
so  little  unredeemed,  perishable  dust  in  any  human 
being.  I  gave  her  a  branch  of  small  pink  roses, 
twelve  on  the  stem,  in  various  stages  of  bloom, 
which  I  had  plucked  from  our  terrace  vine,  and  she 
fastened  it  in  her  black-velvet  dress  with  most  lovely 
effect  to  her  whole  aspect.  Such  roses  were  fit  em- 
blems  of  her.     We  soon  returned  to  the  drawinof- 


346  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

room — a  loft}^,  spacious  apartment,  liung  witli  gobe- 
lin tapestrj  and  pictures,  and  filled  witli  carved 
furniture  and  objects  of  vertli.  Everything  harmo- 
nized— Poet,  Poetess,  child,  house,  the  rich  air  and 
the  starry  night.  Pennini  was  an  Ariel,  flitting 
about,  gentle,  tricksy,  and  intellectual — but  it  rather 
disturbed  my  dream  "  of  the  golden  prime  of  the 
good  Haroun  Alraschid,"  to  have  a  certain  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  E.  come  in,  and  then  Mr.  B.  and  his  daughter. 
Mr.  B.  is  always  welcome  to  the  eye,  with  his  snow- 
drift of  beard  and  hair,  and  handsome  face  ;  but  he 
looked  too  inflexible  and  hard  for  that  society.  The 
three  poets,  Mr.  Browning,  Mr,  B.,  and  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne, got  their  heads  together  in  a  triangle,  and 
talked  a  great  deal,  v/liile-  Mrs.  E.  told  me  what  an 
angel  Mrs.  Browning  is ;  and  Mr.  E.  talked  to  Ada, 
who  looked  charmingly,  in  white  muslin  and  blue 
ribbons — her  face  a  gleam  of  delight,  because  she 
was  so  glad  to  be  at  Casa  Guidi.  Tea  was  brought 
and  served  on  a  long,  narrow  table,  placed  before  a 
sofa,  and  Mrs.  Browning  presided,  assisted  by  Mrs. 
E.  We  all  gathered  at  this  table.  Pennini  handed 
about  the  cake,  graceful  as  Ganymede.  Mr.  Brown- 
ing introduced  the  subject  of  spiritism,  and  there  was 
an  animated  talk.  Mr.  Browning  cannot  believe, 
and  Mrs.  Browning  cannot  help  believing.  They 
kindly  expressed  regret  that  they  were  going  to  the 
seaside  in  a  few  weeks,  since  we  were  to  stay  in 
Florence,  and  hoped  to  find  us  here  on  their  return. 
Mrs.  Browning  wished  me  to  take  U.  to  see  her,  and 


FLORENCE.  347 

Ml.  Browning  exclaimed,  "  You  must  send  Pennini 
to  see  tlieir  boy — sucli  a  fine  creature  !  with  eyes 
kindling — Pennini  must  see  liim,  and  the  little  P., 
a  dearest  little  thing."  This  I  record  for  my  chil- 
dren's sake,  hereafter. 

Uffizzi  and  Pitti  Palaces. 

June  9th. — To-day  XJ.,  Ada,  and  I  went  to  the 
Uffizzi  and  Pitti  Palaces.  I  have  now  taken  my 
first  glance  at  the  Venus  de  Medici,  Raphael's  For- 
narina,  Titian's  Yenus,  Julius  Second,  the  Madonna 
della  Seggiola  and  dell'  Impannata.  We  were  very 
deliberately  going  through  with  the  Uffizzi,  when  Ave 
met  Mr.  Bother mel,  who  said  that  this  was  the  only 
day  when  the  apartments  of  the  Grand  Duke  could  be 
seen  at  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  he  counselled  us  to  go. 
It  was  now  one  o'clock,  yet,  having  no  conception 
what  unheard-of  splendors  might  be  in  store  for  us 
there,  we  concluded  to  brave  the  noon  sun,  and  go. 
The  loggie  of  the  great  court  were  hung  with  superb 
gobelin  tapestries,  and  crimson  silk  and  gold,  and 
the  balconies  were  dra^Ded  with  the  same.  One  of 
the  tapestries  was  Paphael's  Heliodorus,  filling  the 
end  of  a  loggia,  as  brilliant  as  color  could  make  it. 
The  story  of  Esther  was  on  one  whole  side,  and  on 
the  pilasters,  between  the  open  arches,  were  narrow 
groups,  all  of  the  gobelin  arras. 

Besides  the  Great  Cortile,  there  was  another 
smaller  one,  entered  by  a  corridor,  which  was  adorned 
with  tapestry  of  the  same  kind,  and  this  little  court 


S48  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

also  blazed  witli  red  and  gold,  and  woven  pict^^res.  11 
was  all  good  to  beliold,  but  Mr.  Kotliermel  was 
mistaken  about  the  ducal  apartments,  wliicli  cannot 
be  seen  till  to-morrow,  and  so  we  returned  to  tlie 
picture  galleries  again.  Yet  no  sooner  were  we 
there,  than  Mrs.  Mountford  came  up  to  say  that 
they  were  making  a  flower-carpet  in  the  Great  Court, 
which  we  must  see  in  its  first  freshness,  and,  very 
grateful  to  her,  we  immediately  hurried  down.  To 
be  siire,  twenty  or  more  men  were  at  work,  weaving 
a  wonderfid  tissue,  composed  of  petals  of  flowers, 
and  leaves  of  box.  The  pattern  was  carefully  chalked 
upon  the  flat  flag-stones,  and  the  men  were  rapidly 
filling  in  the  forms  with  separate  colors.  Each  of 
their  baskets  contained  petals  of  one  hue,  and  they, 
being  perfectly  instructed  in  what  they  were  to  ac- 
complish, moved  about,  scattering  blue,  or  red,  or 
purple,  or  yellow  petals  in  each  defined  division,  so 
quickly  and  accurately,  that  like  a  vision,  the  gor- 
geous carpet  soon  was  spread  over  the  stones.  Its 
life  was  preserved  bright  and  fresh  by  the  continual 
sprinkling  of  water  from  many  watering-pots,  which 
also  made  the  petals  heavj'',  so  that  the  breeze  would 
not  blow  them  out  of  their  places.  The  fragrance 
was  delicious,  and  can  anything  be  fancied  more 
preciously  beautiful  than  such  a  carpet?  for  its  eva- 
nescence, in  this  case,  added  to  its  value.  Such  pro- 
digality of  richness  just  for  a  few  hours — at  the  ex- 
pense of  so  much  toil !  It  was  like  carving  and  paint- 
ing for  the  Lord,  with  the  single  purpose  of  worship  j 


FLOBENGB.  310 

for  it  was  Corpus-Cliristi  day,  and  the  body  of  the 
Saviour  was  to  pass  over  it — and  the  procession  would 
inevitably  destroy  all  the  cunning  workmanship. 
Thousands  of  wax-candles,  in  prismatic  chandeliers, 
and  in  candelabras,  placed  in  front  of  mirrors,  with 
crystal  pendants,  were  to  light  up  the  scene.  As 
these  chandeliers,  composed  of  prisms,  vibrated,  they 
reflected  the  crimson  tints  of  the  surrounding  silk 
hangings,  and  so  looked  like  rubies  flashing,  even  by 
daylight. 

I  was  sorry  to  find  the  Yenus  de  Medici  with  so 
many  other  sculptures  and  pictures.  I  always  thought 
it  had  been  alone  in  the  Tribune,  or  nearly  so,  with 
only  Raphael's  Fornarina  and  Titian's  Yenus,  But 
it  is  crowded,  and  its  outline  interrupted  by  all  kinds 
of  background.  Yet  its  beauty  equalled  my  hopes, 
and  I  can  scarcely  say  more.  It  is  not  in  such  per- 
fect, unsullied  condition  as  the  Apollo,  but  is  evi- 
dently an  Olympian  like  him,  and  the  dignity  of  a 
goddess  is  in  her  air.  By  a  cunning  art  in  the  mod- 
elling of  the  eyes,  a  singular  depth  and  indrawing 
sweetness  is  given  to  the  expression,  and  an  effect 
of  motion,  as  from  the  action  of  long  lashes,  or  the 
glimmering  of  water, — wholly  unprecedented  in  any 
other  sculptured  eyes  I  have  seen  before.  It  gives 
an  irresistible  attraction  to  the  face.  At  the  same 
time  the  loftiness  of  her  mien  makes  a  too  familial 
appi-oach  impossible.  The  shght  bend  of  the  figure 
suggests  the  immortal  curve  of  which  Kuskin  speaks, 
while  the  erect  line  of  the  brow  gives  a  commanding 


850  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

aspect.      Bernini  has  put  on  some  of  his   ranting 

hands,    and   the   fingers    are    singularly   contorted, 

bending  in  and  out  in  an  extravagant  manner.     He 

should  never  have  meddled  with  anything  Greek — 

especially,  he  should  never  have  touched  the  statue 

that 

"  enchants  the  world." 

No  cast  or  copy  conveys  any  idea  of  it  to  the  eye 
of  one  who  has  not  seen  it.  Life,  emotion,  instant 
thought,  vary  it  every  moment, — a  movement  in  per- 
petual rest.  The  soul  of  the  artist  must  have  been 
of  kindred  delicacy,  or  he  could  not  have  so  clothed 
it  with  maidenly  modesty.  This  modesty  becomes 
a  complete  veil,  and  it  is  an  evidence  that  the  inward 
sentiment  is  all  that  is  essential,  and  no  outward 
condition  whatever,  to  show  the  character ; — character 
— that  mysterious  entity  that  no  covering  can  hide 
and  no  nudity  expose,  for  it  is  a  presence  that 
nothing  can  modify.  Now  I  have  seen  the  most 
beautiful  Apollo,  the  most  beautiful  Minerva,  and 
the  most  beautiful  Venus  in  the  world.  I  have  heard 
that  the  Venus  of  Milo  is  thought  more  noble.  But 
in  the  Venus  we  want  Beauty — not  Nobleness — to 
predominate.  Pure  nobleness  is  for  Minerva.  The 
Goddess  of  Beauty  certainly  should  win  and  enchant, 
not  strike  with  awe,  except  that  there  must  always 
be  a  degree  of  awfulness  in  such  purity  as  this  ex- 
presses. But  I  have  seen  the  Venus  of  Milo  in  the 
Louvre,  and  she  looks  proud  and  not  quite  amiable. 
There  is  grandeur  in  her  mien  and  a  noble  beauty 


FLOBENCE.  351 

in  Ler  form  ;  but  she  has  not  an  attractive,  irresistible 
fascination.  I  looked  at  it  for  hours,  and  having 
heard  that  the  motive  of  the  design  had  not  yet  been 
discovered,  I  set  about  trying  to  find  it  out,  I  tried 
so  vehemently,  that  for  a  long  time  I  was  wholly  at 
a  loss ;  but  suddenly  glancing  at  it  without  purpose, 
I  thought  I  plainly  saw  what  the  action  was.  As 
both  arms  are  gone,  it  was  at  fii'st  difficult  to.  per- 
ceive, but  I  am  sure  that  she  is  taking  the  apple 
from  Paris.  There  is  disdain  in  her  air  and  curled 
lips,  that  an}-  question  should  have  arisen  concerning 
the  pre-eminence  of  her  claim ;  and  an  assurance, 
also,  that  Paris  would  not  hesitate.  Easy,  haughty 
triumph  is  in  the  attitude  and  look — almost  a  scorn- 
ful smile,  which  must  have  been  highly  exasperating 
to  the  irascible  Juno.  The  moment  I  saw  it  all,  I 
wondered  that  there  could  ever  have  been  a  doubt 
about  the  intention  of  the  artist,  and  now  I  wish  I 
could  know,  undeniably,  whether  I  am  right  or 
wrong.  She  seems  to  be  drawing  back  a  little,  while 
she  extends  her  hand  for  the  prize,  as  if  she  inwardly 
despised  to  accept  the  proof  of  so  self-evident  a 
thing  as  her  superior  beauty.  The  Yenus  de  Medici 
has  more  winning  sweetness  and  unconscious  charm, 
I  think. 

I  next  searched  for  Raphael's  Fornarina,  which  I 
immediately  found,  and  a  man  was  attempting  to 
copy  it.  How  Avorse  than  foolish  it  is  for  any  one  to 
try  to  copy  Paphael !  Always  the  touch  divine  is 
omitted — the  soul,  the  meaning  are  not  seized,  and 


So3  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

all  are  deceived  b}^  the  copyists,  wlio  do  not  see  the 
original  picture.  This  Fornarina  exceeds  my  ex- 
pectations even,  for,  though  I  thought  I  should  find 
rich  beauty,  I  did  not  suppose,  from  copies  and  en- 
gravings, that  there  was  such  purity  of  expression 
in  the  exquisite  mouth.  The  Fornarina  of  the  Bar- 
berini  Palace  I  never  liked,  as  I  have  elsewhere  re- 
corded. She  is  bold,  saucy,  and  earthly,  though 
not  so  full  in  form  as  this.  This  has  a  sumptuous 
fulness.  The  eyes  are  sweet  and  arch,  the  cheeks 
like  pomegranates  for  richness  of  color,  and  it  has 
the  depth  of  hues  of  Titian  or  Piombo  ;  5-et,  with 
all  the  glory  of  tint  and  roundness  of  proportions, 
there  is  the  delicacy  and  vernal  sentiment  of  woman- 
hood, which  Titian  never  attained,  and  Raphael 
alone  full}^  rendered.  In  copies,  I  have  thought  it 
an  entirely  handsome  person,  rather  robust  and 
buxom.  In  the  original,  the  face  transfigures  the 
rest.  She  is  beautiful  and  lovable,  spirited,  warm, 
tender,  and  strong,  glowing  with  Italian  sunshine  in 
perfect  bloom.  Of  this  wonderful  picture  the  copy- 
ist was  making  a  vulgar  woman. 

Aft'er  two  nearly  complete  exhaustions  upon  these 
masterpieces,  I  was  arrested  by  another,  a  Madonna 
with  the  Infant  and  St.  John.  It  resembles  Eaphael's 
early  manner.  There  is  a  trace  of  Perugino  in  its 
color  and  expression,  but  it  is  Raphael,  and  no 
other  possible  person  who  painted  the  picture.  It 
is  a  sacred  face  of  maternity — woman,  without  a 
shadow  of  earth  upon  her,  with   something  of  the 


FLORENCE.  353 

clelicato  tints  of  Era  Angelico's  angels.  The  lids 
are  cast  clown  ;  for  her  eyes  rest  upon  the  blessed 
Child.  Her  serene  brow  is  like  a  cloudless  dawn, 
and  her  pale  gold  hair  around  it  like  a  faint,  amber 
cloud,  which  the  unrisen  or  invisible  sun  is  suifusing 
with  light.  Not  even  the  first  of  her  seven  soitows 
has  yet  disturbed  the  peace  of  her  lovely  mouth. 
Titian's  Yenuses,  after  this  and  the  marble  Venus, 
were  really  intolerable,  positively  disagreeable  to 
me — nay,  really  indecent ;  for  they  are  not  god- 
desses— not  womanhood — not  maternity — not  maid- 
enhood, but  nude  female  figures. 

I  did  not  reall}'  see  anything  in  the  Tribune  this 
morning  excepting  the  Venus  de  Medici,  the  For- 
narina,  E-aphael's  Madonna,  and  Titian's  Venuses. 
Oh  yes  ;  I  saw  the  Slave  Whetting  his  Knife — a 
powerful,  earnest,  truthful  form  and  face,  but  a 
singular  subject  for  sculpture.  It  must  have  a  sig- 
nificance not  yet  fancied  or  understood. 

I  remember  particularly  to-day  a  marble  bust  of 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  which  is  monstrous  in  ugli- 
ness ;  and  afterward  I  saw  an  oil  picture  of  him, 
equally  repulsive.  The  face  is  clever,  but  very  evil. 
A  bold,  bad  man  he  looks'  to  have  been.  How  my 
dream  of  this  prince  is  dispelled !  To  be  sure,  the 
Medici  were  no  princes,  but  doctors  original!}',  and 
Sismondi  gives  no  good  character  of  Lorenzo ;  yet 
I  supposed  him  grand  and  comely  in  appearance. 
The  degree  to  which  ugliness  culminates  in  these 
old  civilizations  is  fearful  and  suggestive*.     Ages  of 


S54  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

crime  sometimes  seem  to  be  concentrated  in  one 
countenance.  Tlie  baby  Nero,  however,  whom  1 
saw  to-day,  looked  innocent,  and  opposite  the  infant- 
bnst  was  the  full-grown  Emperor,  revolting  to  be- 
hold, as  if  it  needed  but  one  life  to  develop  the 
depravity.  The  inherited  tendencies  of  the  babe 
were  doubtless  downward,  and  his  mother  did  not 
win  him  u]3ward,  but  drove  him  deeper  into  sin  as 
he  grew  older.  Yet  Nero,  at  his  worst,  looks  like  a 
great  self-indulgent,  pampered  boy,  while  Lorenzo 
is,  apparently,  an  incarnation  of  complicated,  well- 
planned  wickedness,  and  when  only  a  v/eek  old  he 
could  hardly  have  had  a  sweet  and  guileless  ex- 
pression. 

The  Madonna  della  Seggiola  surpasses  entirely  all 
the  copies  in  oil  and  all  engravings.  An  artist  was 
at  work  before  it,  and  had  succeeded  a  little  with 
the  infant  Christ ;  but  had  wholly  missed  the  young 
mother.  In  the  faces  of  this  masterpiece  there  is 
a  singular  pensiveness — not  so  profound  and  sub- 
lime as  in  the  Dresden  Madonna  ;  but  a  tender, 
meditative,  shadowed  sentiment — delicate,  fine,  and 
pathetic.  Mary  may  be  musing  over  the  mysterious 
words  of  Simeon  ;  and  the  loving  caress  with  which 
she  bends  her  cheek  to  the  child,  and  clasps  him  so 
closely,  seems  to  exjDress,  "  He  is  mine — take  him 
not  from  me !  Let  not  that  sword  separate  us,  O 
Lord  !"  Yet  there  is  also  an  all-absorbing  content 
in  the  attitude  and  glance — a  certainty  of  bliss  so 
great  that  the  fear  may  arise  that  it   cannot  last, 


FLORENCE.  355 

There  is  far  more  prophecy  of  the  worship  of  sorrow 
in  the  face  of  Jesus  than  in  that  of  Mary,  and  the  rap- 
ture of  love  in  little  John's  e^^es  is  suffused  with  tear- 
fulness. The  babe  is  grand.  In  the  Madonna  is  a 
penetrating  sweetness  that  I  belieye  I  have  seen  in  no 
other,  though  I  had  thought  there  could  be  no  more 
complete  expression  of  it  than  in  some  of  his  other 
Holy  Families.  This  is  sweeter  than  the  sweetest, 
and  distances  all  hope  of  imitation.  Somewhere  the 
drawing,  the  color,  the  life,  fail  in  all  copies.  So 
many  are  the  applicants  to  paint  this  picture  that 
they  are  five  years  deep.  Every  day  I  grow  more 
and  more  amazed  at  the  genius  of  Raphael.  It  gets 
to  be  miraculous.  This  vrork  transcends  any  power 
I  possess  of  conveying  it  to  the  mind  of  another. 
My  words  seem  poor  rags,  with  which  I  endeavor  to 
clothe  the  idea — heaps  of  rags — the  more  I  ixj,  the 
larger  the  heaps.  At  each  separate  one  of  his 
Avorks  I  exclaim,  "  What !  another  new  face  !" — 
which  I  instantly  perceive  must  be  Raphael's,  yet 
as  new  as  each  separate  soul  is  new,  and  unlike  all 
other  souls.  Color,  form,  expression,  grace — each 
equal  to  each,  and  all  best.  What  an  ej^e,  v/hat  a 
hand,  what  a  heart,  and  what  an  intellect  must  his 
have  been,  and  how  we  know  him  at  once,  though 
there  is  no  mannerism  in  his  style  !  We  know  him, 
because  he  is  superior  to  all,  and  there  is  no  fault. 
We  may  find  some  lesser  or  greater  shortcomings  in 
others  ;  but  Raphael  cannot  be  criticised.  We  only 
must  be  thankful  that  we  have  eyes  to  see  what  he 


35S  JS'OTES  IN  ITALY. 

lias  done,  and  some  degree  of   capacity  to    appre- 
ciate it. 

Let  me  not  forget  to  record,  however,  another 
wonder  I  met  with  to-day — Fra  Angelico's  Madonna 
and  Child,  of  life-size,  surrounded  with  angels  in 
choir.  It  is  in  three  parts — a  tr3'ptich — and  on  the 
folding-doors  are  saints.  The  backgrounds  are  gold. 
The  wreath  of  angels,  each  one  with  a  different  in- 
strument of  music,  and  one,  over  Mary's  head,  with 
hands  folded  in  prayer,  are  worthy  of  the  holy  Friar. 
I  do  not  know  in  what  he  dips  his  pencil,  unless  in 
the  rainbow ;  but  the  robes  of  this  celestia,l  band  are 
glorious  in  color  :  gold  circles  are  round  their  heads, 
fretted  with  points  that  catch  the  light — a  brighter 
gold  than  gold.  Their  hair  is  still  another  shade, 
and  their  instruments  also  are  gold,  and  their  wings 
purple  and  crimson  and  azure,  mingled  with  plumes 
of  shining  gold.  The  hues  of  their  faces  have  his 
peculiar  transparency  and  softness  of  tint ;  and  it 
must  be  the  complexion  of  celestial  beings,  for  there 
is  no  earth  in  it.  The  grace,  splendor,  and  state  of 
this  garland  of  divine  choristers  give  an  idea  of  the 
heavenly  world,  which  Fra  Angelico  alone  reveals. 
The  Yirgin  Mary  sits  in  the  centre,  with  the  babe 
standing  upon  her  knees,  with  both  little  arms  ex- 
tended in  blessing.  From  his  fair  face  and  blue 
eyes  suns  seem  to  radiate  and  actually  dazzle.  He 
is  the  Sun  of  Eighteousness,  delineated  with  the 
pencil  of  a  mortal  saint,  and  this  Sun  is  all  made  up 
of  Love — good-will  to  man.     How  can  any  one  be- 


FLORENCE  357 

lieve  m  an  angry,  avenging  Deity  who  looks  npon 
tliis  true  revelation  of  the  Father?  How  paltry  are 
words  in  the  presence  of  such  an  apocalypse  of 
boundless  grace  to  all !  Two  artists  were  each 
copjdng  an  angel,  and  their  backgrounds  being  fresh 
gold  just  laid  on,  showed  how  gorgeous  the  original 
picture  must  have  been  when  first  executed.  V/hen 
Fra  Angelico  first  unfolded  the  doors  of  the  tryp- 
ticli,  the  beholder  must  have  thought  the  heavens 
opened  upon  him,  with  the  sound  of  sackbut,  psal- 
tery, harp,  and  soft  recorders,  blown  by  the  breath 
arid  touched  with  the  fingers  of  glorious  angels,  in 
accompaniment  tQ  the  world-wide  blessing,  that 
blazes  in  starry  beams  from  the  countenance  of  the 
Express  Image  oe  his  Fathee. 

At  the  Pitti  Palace  I  saw  two  Holy  Families  of 
Murillo,  in  his  peasant  style.  One  is  quite  the 
peasant — the  other  is  somewhat  transfigured,  and 
the  eyes  are  musing,  absent,  and  dreamy — the  ex- 
pression most  pure  and  sweet.  The  child  is  a  lovely 
little  baby,  but  not  the  infant  Christ.  The  "  Bella" 
of  Titian  is  rich  in  color,  with  a  neck  and  bosom  of 
exquisite  beauty,  but  the  Yenetian  school  has,  I 
think,  no  spirituality.  It  is  all  sense,  with  whatever 
sense  can  manifest  of  magnificence  and  'sumptuous- 
ness — not  one  ray  from  heaven,  however,  by  any 
chance.     So  my  observation  has  been,  thus  far. 

June  10th. — "We  went  to  the  Pitti  this  morning  ' 
early,  to  see  the  tapestries  in  the  great  court,  and 


358  NOTES  Ilf  ITALY. 

the  wrecks,  perhaps,  of  the  flower-carpet ;  and  also, 
if  possible,  the  Grand  Ducal  private  apartments. 
Nearly  all  the  arras  had  been  removed,  and  the 
flower-carpet  was  utterly  gone  ;  but  we  gained  ad- 
mittance into  the  palace  : — first,  into  the  Entrance 
Hall  of  Stuccoes,  long,  wide,  and  lofty — the  walls 
and  arched  ceilings  covered  with  stucco  figures"  and 
ornaments  of  every  device.  In  the  centre,  a  door 
upon  the  right  admitted  us  into  another  ante-room, 
equally  lofty,  and  not  so  large,  entirely  painted  in 
fresco  by  Porchetti  (or  Porcetti)  ;  but  the  custode 
did  not  tell  us  what  subjects  were  illustrated.  Now 
the  guard  took  out  his  keys,  and  unlocked  a  door 
and  ushered  us  into  a  bedchamber,  high,  but  small, 
— the  walls  hung  with  satin  damask  of  deep  dahlia- 
red,  illumined  with  lines  of  bright  gold.  The  bed, 
doors,  and  windows  were  hung  with  the  same  mate- 
rial. It  is  a  fine  custom  of  these  southern  kingdoms 
to  drape  the  doors  with  sweeping  folds.  It  probably 
obtains  all  over  Europe. 

The  next  room  Avas  hung  with  gobelin  tapestrj^ — • 
one  whole  side  a  charming  scene  of  gardening  and 
husbandry,  carried  on  by  a  troup  of  little  genii  of 
loveliest  baby-forms  and  sweet  faces,  all  full  of  earn- 
estness, and  as  busy  as  so  many  bees.  They  made 
labor  soar  and  sing.  The  brilliant,  fresh  coloring, 
the  careful  drawing,  and  living  expression  of  these 
tapestries  amazed  me ;  for  the  softest,  round  cheek 
is  rendered  as  by  enamel-painting.  Several  aj^art- 
ments   followed    one    another,    filled  with    similar 


FLORENCE.  359 

beautiful  liangings — sometimes  landscapes  ;  and  one 
"was   particularly  delicate  in  its  aerial  perspective 
In  England,  and  even  in  Rome,  the  arras  we  saw 
was  always  somewhat  faded  ;  but  these  were  as  radi- 
ant as  if  this  moment  woven.      Every  room  con- 
tained tables  of  Florentine  mosaic,  in  pietra  dura, 
as  well  as  of  the  most  precious  marbles  ;  and  superb 
cabinets  of-  ebony,  with  small    columns  of  oriental 
alabaster  and  of  lapis-lazuli,  and  of   the  rare  Blue 
John  (which  however  is  purple) — inlaid  with  flowers, 
birds,  and  shells,  composed  of  pearls  and  genjs,  in 
infinitely  varied  devices,  and  with  no  end  of  beauty. 
Each  cabinet  differed  from  every  other  in  form,  and 
they  were  of  all  varieties  of  substance.  The  flowers  can 
never  fade  that  are  composed  of  jeAvels  and  marbles 
— lilies,  passion-flowers,  roses,  jessamines,  moruing- 
glories,  trailing  in  long  vines  with  lapis-lazuli  petals, 
forget-me-nots  of  turquoise,  and  other  blossoms  of 
earth,  together  with  birds  of  the  air,  involved  in  grace- 
ful arabesques,  winding  and  wreathmg  about.    After 
the  tapestries  ceased,  velvet  and  satin -damask  took 
their  place,  so  thick  and  solid  that  my  hand  could 
scarcely  clutch  it.    It  had  the  thickness  and  richness 
of  Genoa  velvet,  with  the  sheen  of  the  satin  added — 
woven  into  flowers  and  leaves,  like  embossed  work. 
Just  fancy  the  walls  made  up  of  this  gorgeousness, 
and   full,    trailing   curtains    at    all   the    doors    and 
windows. 

At  last   we   came  to  the   chamber  of  the  Grand 
Duchess,      The   bed   was    hung   with   white    satin, 


8G0  jVOTES  in  ITALY. 

lieavilj  embroidered  witli  gold — the  satin  seeming 
to  be  an  eighth  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  The  walls, 
windows,  and  doors  were  draped  with  light-blue  satin 
and  gold — as  well  as  the  chairs  and  couches.  On 
the  toilet,  were  candlesticks  entirely  of  flowers  in 
wreaths,  in  enamel.  A  chandelier  of  the  same 
design  hung  from  the  centre  of  the  frescoed  ceiling. 
A  wie-dieu,  near  the  bed,  was  inlaid  with  pietra  dura 
and  gems,  and  cushioned  with  white  satin  rayed 
with  gold.  But  the  dressing-room  !  On  a  marble 
table,  of  Greek  form,  stood  a  small  gothic-shaped 
glass,  framed  in  enamelled  flowers.  Tabourets  of 
white  satin,  embroidered  with  flowers,  stood  against 
the  walls,  Avhich  were  encased  in  azure  damask. 
And  so  Ave  went  on,  in  splendid  mazes  lost,  till  we 
opened  upon  an  ante-room  or  hall  of  audience,  and 
then  I  supposed  we  were  at  the  end.  But  behold ! 
the  custode  unlocked  another  door,  and  we  began 
upon  a  suite  of  winter-apartments,  which  were 
carpeted.  Our  feet  seemed  sinking  in  deep  moss, 
and  we  crushed  down  fresh  blooming  flowers  at 
everj-  step.  Hitherto  we  had  walked  over  marble 
and  inlaid  floors.  Now,  each  room  showed  a  new 
variety  of  carpet — a  new  color  for  groundwork,  and 
new  designs  elaborated  upon  it.  In  each  Avas  also  a 
clock  of  some  rare  device.  One  was  made  entirely 
of  gold  and  Blue  John.  Some  were  of  gold  and 
oriental  alabaster,  and  all  were  clicking.  One  struck 
while  we  were  near  b}'',  and  it  was  like  fair}''  music. 
The   cabinets   seemed  to  become    more   and    more 


FLORENCE.  36i^ 

superb,  and  the  tables  richer,  as  we  went  on.  In 
the  Grand  Duke's  bedroom  hung  the  only  oil  paint- 
ing we  saw,  a  Madonna  by  Carlo  Dolce,  a  replica  of 
the  original  one,  in  the  Borghese  Palace  in  Ptomc, 
entirely  different  from  any  other  Madonna,  Yory 
beautiful  and  highly  finished.  Wonderful  eyes  has 
the  Virgin,  with  tender,  deep  shadows,  as  from  long 
lashes.  I  liked  it  extremely  at  Kome,  but  this  is 
more  lovely  still,  ^he  prie-dieu  here  was  particularly 
exquisite,  in  Florentine  mosaiQ,  and  one  table  in  the 
room  had  marvellous  groups  of  faces  and  figures,  in- 
laid. Inlaying  certainly  can  go  no  further  than  in 
this  Florentine  work.  The  walls  of  all  the  winter- 
suite  were  covered  with  satin  and  velvet  damask — 
one  was  again  entirel}^  azure.  At  the  close,  Ave  en- 
tered upon  a  hall  surrounded  with  marble  statues, 
in  niches,  where,  I  think,  the  custode  said  the  Acad- 
emy of  Arts  hold  meetings,  and  this  opened  upon 
a  cabinet  of  antique  sculpture — one  Apollo  there 
greatly  resembling  our  friend  the  Count  O'S.  And 
now  we  had  really  finished  the  circuit.  *  *  ^  *  ^^  ^•■■ 
At  one  o'clock  I  took  U.  and  R.  to  Casa  Guidi,  to 
see  Mrs.  Browning.  She  does  not  see  people  till 
eight  in  the  evening,  but  as  E.  is  fast  asleep  at  that . 
hour,  she  requested  me  to  come  at  one  with  her. 
We  rang  a  great  while,  and  no  one  answered  the  bell, 
but  presently  a  woman  came  up  the  staircase  and  ad- 
mitted us  ;  but  she  was  surprised  that  we  expected  tc 
see  Mrs.  Browning  at  such  a  time.  I  gave  her  my 
credentials,  and  so  she  invited  us  to  follow  her  in. 

10 


363  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

We  found  the  wondrous  lady  in  lier  drawing-room, 
very  pale,  and  looking  ill,  yet  she  received  us  affection- 
ately, and  was  deeply  interesting,  as  usual.  She  took 
E.  into  her  lap,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  talking  to  and 
looking  at  her,  as  well  as  at  U.  She  said,  "  Oh  how 
rich  and  happy  you  are  to  have  two  daughters,  a 
son,  and  such  a  husband  !"  Her  boy  was  gone  to 
his  music-master's,  which  I  ^vas  very  sorrj^  for,  but 
we  saw  two  pictures  of  him.  Mrs.  Browning  said 
he  had  a  vocation  for,,music,  but  did  not-like  to  ap- 
ply to  anything  else  any  more  than  a  butterfly,  and 
the  only  way  she  could  command  his  attention  was 
to  have  him  upon  her  knees,  and  hold  his  hands  and 
feet.  He  knows  German  pretty  well  already,  and 
Italian  perfectly,  being  born  a  Florentine.  *  *  * 
I  was  afraid  to  stay  long,  or  to  have  Mrs.  Browning- 
talk,  because  she  looked  so  pale,  and  seemed  so 
much  exhausted,  and  I  perceived  that  the  motion  of 
B.'s  fan  distressed  her.  I  do  not  understand  how 
she  can  live  long,  or  be  at  all  restored  while  she 
does  live.  I  ought  rather  to  say  that  she  lives  so 
ardently  that  her  delicate  earthly  vesture  must  soon 
be  burnt  up  and  destroyed  by  her  soul  of  pure  fire. 
Soon  after  five  I  took  B.  to  the  Boboli  gardens. 
They  are  open  to  the  public  two  days  in  the  week. 
^^e  soon  found  a  lake  with  swans,  and  B,  did  not 
wish  to  go  a  step  farther,  and  so  I  sat  down  on  a 
marble  seat,  while  she  watched  the  majestic  crea- 
tures. The  grounds  extend  for  an  immense  distance, 
and  include  hill,  plain  and  valley,  groves,  avenue^ 


FLORENCE.  303 

lawns,  fountains,  lakes,  islands,  statues,  flowers,  con- 
servatories— impenetrable  shades  and  sunny  open 
spaces — extensive  views  from  the  heights — temples, 
bowers,  grottoes — in  short,  "  enormous  bliss"  of 
every  green,  flowery,  and  bosky  kind.  They  are  the 
gardens  of  the  palace,  and  have  an  entrance  from 
the  piazza  in  front,  as  well  as  this  other  entrance, 
nearer  to  our  Casa  del  Bello.  In  the  swans'  lake 
v/as  a  rough  rock,  upon  which  sat  a  marble  Ariadne, 
stretching  out  her  fair  arms  wildly  for  help  against 
a  horrible  green  dragon,  who  was  creeping  out  of 
the  water  on  one  side,  while  an  enormous  frog — 
probably  antediluvian — was  opening  his  jaws  upon 
her  from  the  other.     *     "'     *     *     *     * 

June  12th. — We  set  forth  for  the  Pitti  Gallery  this 
morning,  and  first  went  into  Mrs.  Powers'  to  leave 
E..  for  a  visit.  We  found  Mr.  Powers,  and  had  a 
very  interesting  call.  Pie  took  us  into  all  his  many 
rooms,  and  gave  us  a  great  deal  of  instruction  in  the 
human  face  and  form.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that 
he  never  models  his  ideal  heads  and  statues  in  clay, 
but  cuts  them  out  of  plaster,  so  that  his  models 
never  crumble,  and  can  be  brought  to  any  degree  of 
perfection  he  chooses.  He  had  a  figure  of  Milton's 
Penserosa,  with  "  looks  commercing  with  the  skies," 
of  the  heroic  size,  and  very  majestic  and  impressive 
— an  extraordinary  light  in  the  eyes — a  rapturous 
gleam,  which  one  would  not  have  supposed  possible 
to  give  without  the  iris  and  the  sheen  of  color.     But 


364  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Lis  belief  and  theory  is  that  every  effect  can  be  given 
by  pure  form,  and  lie  seems  to  prove  it  very  well. 
He  lias  studied  anatomy,  and  observed  nature  most 
carefully,  and  thinks  he  has  found  truth  upon  v/hich 
to  stand  and  work  and  expound.  He  says  he  not 
only  can  render  the  glance  of  the  eyes,  but  indicate 
the  direction  of  the  beam,  so  that  one  can  put  one's 
"self  in  the  line  of  sight  and  meet  the  look.  Perhaps 
we  thought  the  iris  \vas  only  a  part  of  the  smooth 
surface  of  the  ball,  and,  to  show  us  the  contrary,  he 
closed  his  lids  and  moved  the  iris  back  and  forth 
beneath  them,  and  we  saw  immediately  that  it  was 
raised  from  the  ball  and  moved,  a  perceptible  globe, 
over  it.  Therefore,  whenever  the  iris  might  be  upon 
the  ball,  it  v>^ould  slightly  raise  the  lid  in  that  spot, 
and  this  should  always  be  attended  to  in  modelling, 
for  it  indicated  the  ]3osition  and  direction  of  the 
glance.  He  said,  also,  that  the  elevation  or  depres- 
sion of  the  lachrymal  gland  showed  the  way  the  eje 
turned,  and  he  bade  us  look  at  his  own.  "We  saw 
that  if  he  looked  to  the  right,  the  little  gland  in  the 
corner  of  the  eye,  nest  the  nose,  was  higher  in  the 
right  eye  and  depressed  in  the  left,  and  that  very 
seldom  was  this  gland  modelled  at  all,  instead  of 
being  carefully  distinguished.  His  own  ideal  busts 
jiroved  his  laws,  all  obeyed ;  and,  under  the  light  of 
his  expositions,  it  was  very  interesting  to  examine 
them  anew.  He  told  us  also  that  the  skin  round  the 
mouth  was  knitted  over  the  lips  in  its  own  cunning 
wa}'-,  separating  the  roseate  color  from  the  white 


FLORENCE..  3Go 

cuticle.  This  he  found  in  nature,  but  never  found  it 
imitated  in  sculpture  till  he  did  it  himself.  The  ear, 
also,  he  said,  was  generally  neglected,  while  it  was  a 
very  beautiful  part,  when  well  formed  ;  and  the  ears 
of  his  own  heads  proved  how  exquisite  it  could  be. 
W.  S.  had  said  tliji,t  Mr.  Powers  had  but  one  type, 
and  there  was  no  variety  in  his  ideal  faces  and  forms. 
I  found  this  to  be  quite  an  unjust  remark.  There  is 
an  entire  difference  between  them.  Prosperine  has 
a  face  tender  and  emotional,  with  the  pure  sentiment 
of  womanhood — a  little  pensive,  with  prophecy  of 
future  sweet  cares,  blooming  with  changing  rose- 
hues,  affectionate,  ready  for  tears  and  for  smiles, — 
ideal  girlhood,  developing  into  higher  experience. 
It  is  dev>^y,  blushing,  tendril-like  in  affections.  A 
Avreath  of  wheat  is  wound  round  her  head,  blending 
with  the  bands  of  hair,  which  are  gathered  in  a  rich 
knot,  and  then  fall  upon  the  neck.  For  such  a 
daughter  Ceres  might  well  search  with  an  immortal 
sorrow. 

Near  by  this  is  Psyche,  a  conception  of  pure  soul, 
without  relation  to  persons  or  time.  It  is  eternal 
youth,  and  one  cannot  determine  the  degree  of  youth- 
fulness,  because  it  is  not  young,  but  youth.  The 
eyes  look  straight  forward  with  a  clear,  serene,  self- 
centred  expression.  They  demand  no  symp'athy 
or  responsive,  loving  glance,  like  the  soft,  liquid  eyes 
of  Prosperine.  They  seem  to  look  into  the  source  of 
light  Avithout  surprise  and  without  blenching,  lofty 
"  and  steady.     Pier  hair,  folded  on  her  brow  in  the 


366  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Olympian  style,  is  fastened  tliere  by  a  butterfly,  like 
a  jewel— emblem,  of  the  soul.  It  is  a  face  neither 
pensive  nor  joyful,  neither  for  smiles  nor  for  tears, 
but  superior  to  our  regards  and  content  in  itself : 
not  arrogant,  but  lofty ;  not  cold,  but  calm  and  col- 
lected, and  soft  only  through  perfect  beauty  and  a 
plastic  power.  Such  is  Psyche.  And  Psyche  differs 
again  wholly  from  Diana,  which  is  in  the  same  room. 
Diana  is  of  heroic  size.  She  has  the  cold,  distant  air 
of  a  queen  a,nd  goddess.  She  is  not  soul,  but 
only  a  part  of  the  soul — its  chastity.  A  slight  Hy- 
perion scorn  is  in  her  mouth.  She  is  plainly  the 
sister  of  Apollo,  the  Python-slayer.  She  has  nothing 
to  do  with  mortals,  but  is  accustomed  to  hold  her 
highwa}^  among  the  courses  of  the  stars,  with  the 
constellations  for  her  maids  of  honor.  She  steps 
only  on  the  adamantine  floors  of  heaven,  and  her 
brow  is  caressed  only  by  the  blue  ether,  in  fathom- 
less spaces  above.  Even  now  she  turns  aside  her 
face  with  a  fine  and  delicate  disdain  of  what  may 
meet  her  indifferent  glance  here  below.  She  wears 
a  coronet  with  stars  and  a  crescent,  and  a  richly 
sculptured  baldric  holds  her  dra.pery  over  her  shoul- 
der. Who  can  say  that  Diana  is  like  the  Proserpine 
or  the  Psyche  ? 

Eve  looks  primal.  There  is  not  one  hour's  expe- 
rience in  her  new  soul,  beaming  out  of  her  large, 
innocent  eyes.  I  am  sure  she  has  not  j-et  tasted  the 
apple  she  holds  in  her  hand,  and  knows  nothing 
whatever  about  good  and  evil.     But  I  did  not  ob- 


FLORENCE.  367 

serve  Eve  sufficient!}'  to-day,  and  intend  to  see  it 
another  time. 

Mr.  Povi^ers  showed  us  a  machine  in  which  lie  cuts 
and  finishes  the  separate  parts  of  his  statues.  If  ho 
wishes  to  elaborate  a  hand,  he  takes  it  off  the  arm, 
and  puts  it  in  a  vice,  and  turns  it  to  every  light 
and  poiwt  of  view,  and  then  fastens  it  again  to  the 
figure  ;  and  so  with  each  portion.  He  is  a  genius 
at  mechanics  as  well  as  at  sculpture,  and  has  in- 
vented and  made  various  tools,  and  machines  for 
fashioning  the  tools,  and  for  effecting  manifold  pro- 
cesses. He  has  made  an  instrument  for  scooping  or 
punching  a  clearly  cut  hole  in  a  thick  piece  of  iron, 
in  which  he  has  concentrated  sixty  thousand  pounds 
weight  of  power  into  his  own  individual  amount  of 
power  ;  so  that  by  leaning  upon  a  spike  or  pivot  for 
a  second,  without  perceptibly  great  effort,  the  hole 
is  punched.  This  saves  the  time  used  for  drilling. 
Enormous  labor,  expense,  and  time  were  all  saved — 
I  forget  in  what  proportions.  He  has  also  invented 
a  file  or  grater,  which  frees  itself  perpetually  from 
the  clogging  of  the  substance  grated,  so  as  to  work 
clear,  without  trouble  ;  and  this,  he  said,  was  "  first- 
rate  for  culinary  purposes,"  as  well  as  for  grating 
his  statues.  After  exhibiting  to  us  all  his  inventions 
and  productions  visible  round  about,  he  asked  us  if 
we  had  seen  the  little  hand.  No,  we  had  only  heard 
of  it.  So  he  brought  out  "the  little  hand" — the 
hand  of  his  daughter  Louisa,  when  five  months  old. 
All  the  hands  of  babies  are  pretty,  but  Louisa's  is 


368  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

peculiarly  so.  It  bears  the  palm ;  and  her  father 
has  carved  a  perfect  fac-simile.  It  is  outstretched, 
with  lovely  taper  fingers,  every  nail  rendered  ex- 
actly, and  the  effect  of  the  delicate  skin  given,  with 
the  folds  over  the  knucldes,  and  the  deep  crease 
round  the  plump  wrist.  This  little  hand  comes  forth 
from  a  cuff,  as  it  were — or  rufHe  of  beautifully  sculp- 
tured leaves,  which  fall  back  from  it. 

I  think  we  must  have  stayed  more  than  an.  hour, 
jei  we  were  not  tired  of  it,  though  the  Pitti  was  in 
store  for  us  ;  and  it  was  after  eleven  when  we  arrived 
at  the  Palace. 

I  saw  to  day,  for  the  first  time,  the  Madonna  del 
Baldacchino  of  Raphael.  I  do  not  like  the  face  of 
the  Yirgin  so  well  as  that  of  many  others,  but  it  is 
lovely,  and  the  whole  picture  is  a  superb  one— with 
saints  and  angels,  and  low  in  front  the  Chanting 
Cherubs,  which  Greenough  so  exactly  copied  in  mar- 
ble. According  to  Mr.  Mozier,  of  Eome,  Greenough 
never  originated  the  slightest  thing,  but  copied  the 
antique,  and  embodied  detailed  descnptions  of  an- 
tique statues,  now  not  extant,  and  put  into  marble 
painted  figures,  like  these  cherubs.  Here  are  these, 
at  any  rate,  perfectly  familiar  to  me  through  Green- 
ough's  group,  which  I  saw  so  many  j-ears  ago  in 
Boston,  and  ahvays  supposed  his  own  conception. 
No  one  ever  told  me  they  were  copies. 

Mary  sits  enthroned,  with  the  child,  beneath  a 
cano23y  or  baldacchino,  the  folds  of  which  are  held 
back  by  two  angels,  floating  above.     Four  fathers  of 


FLORENCE.  869 

the  Cliiircli,  two  on  each  side,  stand  by  the  throne, 
and  the  httle  choristers  are  in  the  foreground.  In 
the  same  saloon  is  a  small  and  wonderful  picture  bj 
Raphael,  of  the  Yision  of  Ezekiel :  "  He  rode  upon 
a  cherub  and  did  fly."  The  Almighty  is  upborne  by 
the  mysterious,  complex  shapes.  The  effect  of  the 
whole  is  sublime,  and  I  cannot  tell  how  or  why,  ex- 
cept that  Eaphael  has  rendered  what  the  prophet 
saw,  and  we  Idndle  to  read.  It  is  grand,  vast,  incom- 
prehensible,  yet  all  comprised  in  a  space  no  larger 
than  this  page  (small  letter-paper),  showing  that  size 
is  no  necessary  element  of  grandeur.  Both  this  and 
the  Baldacchino  will  be  good  for  study. 

To-day  I  saw  also  Michel  Angelo's  Three  Fates  ; 
and  I  needed  more  than  one  pair  of  eyes  to  gaze, 
for  I  had  all  my  life  wished  to  see  it.  An  artist  was 
copying  it  badly,  Avhich  is  a  pity;  for  his  cop}'  will 
deceive  somebody,  who  vv'ill  suppose  it  like  the  origi- 
nal. Mr.  Emerson  has  a  copy,  but  I  cannot  recall 
that  vividly  enough  to  compare  it  with  Michel  An- 
gelo's. The  weird  sister  who  stands  in  the  middle, 
seemed  to  me  to  have  a  slight  compunction  in  her 
mouth  and  eyes,  but  Mr.  H.  said  she  had  not  to  him, 
and  that  "  if  she  had,  she  v^'ould  not  be  a  Fate,  but 
a  Providence."  I  think  the  other  two  are  pitiless 
enough,  however.  They  are  as  hard  as  metal.  One, 
she  who  hohls  the  distaff,  and  has  spun  the  thread, 
is  crying  out.  Or  I  think  she  holds  the  distaff,  and 
the  central  sister  has  spun  the  thread,  which  the  third 
one  is  about  to  clip.      I  cannot  help  seeing  a  little 


870  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

softness  in  tlie  mouth  of  her  who  holds  the  slenclei 
thread  of  life.  It  is  the  clipper  who  looks  merciless 
and  ston3\  It  seems  as  if  the  distaff-holder  were 
enraged  that  the  substance  she  has  supplied  should 
be  wasted,  and  that  the  thread-holder  regrets  that 
the  cunningly  twisted  filament  shopld  be  snapped 
asunder.  It  is  a  work  of  mighty  power  and  expres- 
sion, rendered  with  the  same  single  regard  to  truth 
and  indifference  to  comeliness,  Avhich  the  great 
artist  so  often  manifested.  It  reminded  me  of  the 
statue  of  an  old  woman  at  the  Capitol  in  Rome — ■ 
thought  to  be  Hecuba  or  a  Sibyl — an  antique,  and 
painfully  like  a  despairing  or  oracle-mad  old  proph- 
etess, opposed  to  the  usual  tranquil  Greek  sculp- 
tures. 

Baphael's  Madonna  del  Gran  Duca,  never  seen 
out  of  the  royal  private  apartments,  except  when 
some  one  is  copying  it,  was  visible  to-day.  She 
stands,  holding  the  infant.  Her  face  is  fair,  and 
more  like  Perugino  or  Fra  Angelico  in  form,  color, 
and  expression,  but  yet  unmistakably  Raphael. 

Just  as  I  was  about  leaving  the  palace,  I  dis- 
covered a  Madonna  adoring  the  Infant,  by  Perugino, 
one  of  the  divinest  I  have  yet  seen  by  him.  I  shall 
have  great  profit  and  solace  in  that  picture  hence- 
forth. 

There  is  a  large  round  table  in  one  of  the  saloons 
of  fabulous  magnificence.  The  ground  of  the  mosaic 
is  lapis-lazuli,  and  on  that  rich  substance  every 
graceful  flower   and  fancy  is  inlaid  with    precioua 


FLORENCE.  371 

stones.  So  iu  a  corridor  running  from  one  apart- 
ment to  another  are  closed  cabinets  full  of  Yenetian 
glass  and  ivorj^  carvings  of  almost  impossible  deli- 
cacy ;  and  on  the  wall  hang  pictures  composed  of 
pietra  dura— one  the  Pantheon  at  Kome — very  su- 
perb— and  two,  representing  great  beauty  of  expres- 
sion and  grace  of  form,  in  which  the  immitigable 
stone  is  made  to  flow,  apparentl}^,  at  the  determined 
will  of  genius. 

This  afternoon  T  took  a  carriage  to  make  calls  "on 
the  Lung'Arno,  with  Ada  and  the  children  ;  but  find- 
ing no  one  at  home,  we  drove  to  the  Cascine,  the 
Hyde  Park  of  Florence,  and  found  it  very  delicious. 
It  is  outside  the  gates,  and  consists  of  long  carriage- 
drives,  deeply  shaded  with  noble  trees,  lovely  park- 
like groves,  sunny  lawns,  fountains,  and  shrubbery ; 
and  on  one  side  afar  mountains  crowned  with  cities, 
and  fringed  with  villages,  and  a  delightful  odor  of 
flowers  diffused  through  all. 

June  14th. — This  morning  we  spent  at  the  Uffizzi. 
We  first  sat  doAvn  in  the  vestibule  to  look  at  the 
marble  busts  of  the  Medici  which  surround  it.  Alas ! 
what  presentments  !  Gaston,  "  smothered  in  his  own 
wig,"  as  Mr.  H.  truly  said,  has  also  a  face  and  air  in 
perfect  harmony  with  the  bravery  of  his  wig — the 
truculent  mien  of  a  turkeycock — the  head  thrown 
back,  the  nose  in  the  shape  of  a  gallop — an  immense 
assumption  of  importance,  not  borne  out  by  any 
intellectual  superiority.     Lorenzo  has  none  of  this 


372  irOTES  IN  ITALY. 

pomposity ;  but  a  very  broad  bead,  and  an  equal]}' 
broad  face,  with  an  expression  of  power,  unscrupu- 
lousness,  and  complexity  —  ambitious,  ignoble,  and 
cruel.  Leopold,  son  of  Cosmo,  is  almost  monstrous. 
From  an  admirable  economy  in  natiu-e,  wliat  should 
have  been  brain  is,  in  Leopold,  under  lip,  certainly 
the  biggest  I  ever  beheld  in  a  white  man,  and  as 
coarse  as  a  negro's.  There  are  two  others  who  also 
have  an  African  coarseness  of  contour,  and  there  is 
but  one  which  is  respectable  in  aspect — one  Ferdi- 
nand. Such  men  as  these  ruled  my  beautiful 
Florence !  the  flower  of  cities,  the  most,  highly- 
cultivated  of  communities,  the  very  rose  of  civiliza- 
tion. Florence  must  have  done  very  wrong  to  de- 
serve so  severe  a  punishment. 

A  few  weeks  ago  the  crj'pt  of  the  Medicean  chapel 
was  opened,  and  the  dead  bodies  of  these  grim 
prince-doctors  were  visible,  because  they  had  been 
embalmed.  Conceive  the  idea  of  trying  to  preserve 
the  dead  todies  of  such  frightful-looking  persons — of 
being  anxious  to  keep  forever  that  under  lip,  for  in- 
stance !  I  should  have  liked  to  see  Lorenzo  for  a 
flitting  instant,  because  he  was  so  famous  ;  but  I 
am  glad,  on  the  whole,  that  I  escaped  the  ghastly- 
show. 

The  charming  group  of  Silenus,  with  the  infant 
Bacchus  in  his  arms,  stands  in  the  vestibule,  on  one 
side  the  door.  It  is  in  bxonze.  I  was  acquainted 
with  it  in  marble  in  the  Braccio  Nuovo  of  the  Vati- 
can, and  it  is  most  beautiful,  in  Avhatever  material-- 


FLORENCE.  373 

one  of  tlio  antique  masterpieces.  Very  fiuely-cit 
ancient  bas-reliefa  of  marble  are  inserted  in  tlie 
walls  of  the  room — noble,  heroic,  draped  figures  of 
Ptomau  times.  In  an  inner  ante-room  is  the  Medi- 
cean  boar,  and  dogs  and  a  marble  horse,  and  busts 
of  the  Koman  emperors,  old  acquaintances  of  ours. 
Tlieu  we  entered  the  long  gallery  of  marble  busts 
and  groups,  and  specimens  of  the  old  oil-painters 
from  Cimabue.  Here  we  paused  before  Fra  An- 
gelico's  Tryptich — the  Madonna,  surrounded  by  the 
Choral  Angels.  I  found  that  there  are  two  in  a  de- 
vout attitude  over  her  head — one  with  hands  joined 
palm  to  palm,  the  other  with  arms  crossed  over  the 
bosom.  The  artists  were  not  arrived  yet,  and  so  we 
could  not  see  the  splendor  of  the  new  gold.  On  our 
return,  however,  they  were  painting,  and  the}^  had 
commenced  two  other  copies,  one  of  them  exceed- 
ingly beautiful.  I  should  like  to  possess  such  good 
copies  as  these,  and  set  up  an  angel  in  each  room  of 
our  house. 

We  remained  a  long  while  in  the  Tribune,  and  I 
saAV  there,  for  the  first  time,  Michel  Angelo's  Holy 
Family.  Mary  sits  on  the  ground,  and  is  lifting  the 
infant  to  Joseph,  who  is  behind  her.  The  child  is 
grand,  and  Joseph  is  fine,  but  Mary  is  too  plain 
and  old.  The  noble  Samian  Sibyl  of  Guercino  is 
there  also,  with  the  head  raised,  and.  turned  over 
the  right  shoulder.  A  man  was  making  a  perfectly 
incorrect  copy  of  it.  The  lovely  Yenus  de  Medici 
maintained  her  state,  notvdthstanding  Mr.  Powers' 


374  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

censure  of  lier  face  and  Iieacl.  He  says  she  lias  tlie 
face  of  an  idiot !  and  certainly  the  casts  seem  to 
have.  But  the  marble  is  not  so.  The  profile  view 
is  sweet  and  delicate,  and  fitly  surmounts  the  unsur- 
passed beauty  of  the  form. 

The  Madonna  of  Sasso  Eerrato,  with  downcast 
lids,  and  a  blue  nun-like  mantle  over  the  head — so 
much  copied  and  engraved — called  the  Yirgin  of 
Sorrows,  I  saw  at  last  as  originally  painted,  as  v/ell 
as  the  Magdalen  of  Carlo  Dolce,  so  much  liked, 
with  upraised  head,  holding  a  vase  to  her  breast. 
But  there  is  a  singular  metallic  finish  and  tint  in 
Carlo  Dolce's  paintings,  which  I  do  not  like.  They 
are  coppery,  brassy,  or  silvery  and  golden,  and 
sometimes  irony — but  the  shadows  are  not  trans- 
parent, and  he  is  too  Dolce  generally.  This  Mag- 
dalen, however,  is  not  dolce,  though  dark  and 
metallic.  I  like  nothing  that  I  have  seen  of  Carlo 
Dolce  entirely,  excepting  the  Madonna  in  the  Grand 
Duke's  bedchamber  at  the  Pitti  Palace.  That  is 
rare  and  exquisite,  with  a  noble  expression.  Titian's 
celebrated  Flora  is  in  the  same  room — a  maiden 
with  flowing  auburn  hair,  a  loose,  white  Greek  dress, 
and  flowers  in  her  hand.  Her  complexion  is  very 
fair  and  luminous  ;  but  the  face  is  disagreeable, 
like  many  of  Titian's  ladies'  faces,  while  his  por- 
traits of  men  are  gracious  and  agreeable. 

To-day  is  distinguished  by  my  first  seeing  Niobe 
and  her  children,  arranged  round  a  vast  hall — the 
very  original  marbles.     They  were  found  just  out- 


FLORENCE.  375 

side  one  of  the  gates  of  Eome.  The  dying  son  is 
very  beautiful,  as  well  as  the  daughter,  who  is  look- 
ing down  upon  him — or  who  was — for  the}'  are  sep- 
arated now.  The  light  in  the  hall  is  not  good  for 
sculpture,  and  these  noble  forms  are  at  great  disad- 
vantage, and  we  did  not  stay  long  to-day  to  study 
them. 

Two  very  large  rooms  are  filled  with  portraits  of 
artists,  where  one  can  see  face  to  face  all  who  have 
ever  had  a  name.  At  this  time  I  looked  at  Bubeus, 
Rembrandt,  Raphael,  Michel  Angelo,  Titian,  and 
Mengs.  The  portrait  of  RajDliael  shows  the  utmost 
delicacy  and  grace  of  soul.  All  the  copies  and  en- 
gravings fail  here  as  usual.  It  is  said  that  Raphael's 
eyes  in  this  picture  were  once  blue  and  the  hair  fair, 
and  that  the  cleaners  have  retouched  them  and 
made  them  dark.  This  is  proved  true  by  the  por- 
trait of  him  by  his  contemporarj^,  Pinturicchio,  in 
the  library  of  the  Siena  Cathedral.  That  has  golden 
hair  and  blue  eyes.  So  that  this  Florence  picture, 
by  himself,  has  been  shamefully  spoiled,  and  we 
see  only  his  drawing,  and  none  of  his  coloring. 
Picture-cleaners  are  often  the  destruction  instead  of 
the  restorers  of  works  of  art.  But  the  beauty  of 
these  lines  has  not  been  interfered  with. 

In  a  small  cabinet  of  sculpture,  is  an  unfinished 
head  of  Brutus — Marcus  Brutus — b}'  Michel  Angelo, 
with  a  countenance  of  stupendous  force  of  expres> 
sion  and  careful  thought.  There  is  also  here  his 
first  attempt  in  marbte  at  fifteen  years — a  satj-r's 


376  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

head  or  a  mask — by  uo  means  lovely.  Near  by  is  a 
colossal  head  of  Alexander  the  Great — grand,  and 
expressive  of  wild  grief  and  disturbance.  I  think  I 
know  his  face  well  now,  for  there  are  several  busts 
of  him  at  Kome,  and  a  resemblance  runs  through 
all.  In  the  hall  of  Portraits,  stands  the  Medicean 
vase,  upon  which  is  carved,  in  relief,  the  Sacrifice 
of  Iphigenia,  which  I  so  long  ago  admired  in  en- 
gravings. It  is  a  good  deal  injured,  and  much 
larger  than  I  supposed. 

June  17th. — We  celebrated  this  day  by  going  to 
the  Academy  of  Arts.  We  went  into  the  first  gal- 
lery through  a  hall  of  casts,  none  of  which  detained 
us  long.  The  paintings  of  the  Academy  are  all  by 
the  great  masters,  except  a  few  by  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
the  Florentine.  We  first  looked  at  an  Adoration  of 
the  Magi,  by  Gentile  da  Fabriano.  The  faces  and 
figures  are  all  admirable,  many  of  them  beautiful, 
the  coloring  gorgeous,  and  made  actually  to  shine 
by  real  gold  embroidery,  gold-hilted  swords,  em- 
bossed gold  crowns  that  glittered  with  gems,  rings 
and  brooches  and  bracelets  of  gold,  set  with  jewels  ; 
and  the  gold  is  gold  and  not  a  semblance.  I  sup- 
pose this  is  a  questionable  license  in  art,  but  the 
effect  was  sumptuous. 

Mary  is  lovely,  and  the  majestic  babe  stoops  over 
an  aged  king,  who  kneels  to  kiss  his  little  foot,  and 
blesses  the  venerable  potentate,  bristling  and  crink- 
ling Avitli  gorgeous  brocade,  by   placing   his  hand 


FLOUENCE.  377 

upon  Lis  head.  Wonderful  is  tlie  dignity  nnd  sweet- 
ness of  tlie  grand  infant's  countenance.  One  of  the 
kings  is  }ouiig,  and  stands  in  tlie  centre  of  tlie  group, 
witli  a  iiandsome  face — perfectly  maguificGut  in  cos- 
tume, and  with  that  expression  of  true  devoutness, 
found  only  in  the  old  masters — a  look  of  entire  self- 
surrender  to  an  absorbing  religious  sentiment,  ac- 
companied with  a  peculiar  bend  of  the  head,  in  which 
are  worship,  gentleness,  submission,  and  serenity. 
Behind  the  young  monarch  stands  Gabriele  da 
Fabriano  himself,  in  a  red.  turban — a  jDortrait — -his 
broad,  earnest  face  expressive  of  much  interest  in 
gazing  at  the  kneeling  king  at  Mary's  feet.  Gold 
and  jewelled  cups,  attendants  and  officers,  crowd  the 
scene.  In  the  upper  part  of  the  picture  this  splen- 
did throng  is  represented  winding  its  way  up  into 
the  town  of  Bethlehem,  like  a  distant  rainbow. 

A  Descent  from  the  Cross,  by  Era  Angelico, 
highly  iinished — the  colors  as  bright  as  if  just 
flashed  from  a  prism — attracted  me,  like  all  his 
works,  by  its  delicacy  of  conception  and  reverent 
feeling.  An  Assumption,  by  Perugino,  called  one  of 
his  masterpieces,  is  distinguished  by  four  figures 
standing  below — three  saints  and  the  archangel 
Michael.  St.  John  GualberLo  is  in  the  habit  of  a 
Cardinal,  the  red  hat  upon  his  head,  and  tied  under 
his  chin — the  head  bent  a  little.  The  face  is  full  of 
living  thought  and  feeling,  and  a  vast  serenity — the 
attitude  exceedingly  graceful,  with  a  sort  of  heavenly 
urace,  rather  than  the  crace  of  the  drawinQ"-room. 


378  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

St.  Benedict  is  next,  looking  up  in  ecstasy.  Both 
these  saints  prefigure  Raphael  in  expression,  dig- 
nity, and  sentiment;  but  Baphael  always  went  be- 
yond his  master  in  perfection  of  execution.  His 
outlines  are  never  hard,  nor  his  coloring  opaque,  as 
Peruojino's  often  are.  The  archan<2;el  stands,  lean- 
ing  upon  his  shield  (or  rather  resting  his  hands 
upon  it,  for  his  figure  is  erect),  looking  out  of  the 
picture.  There  is  what  Mr.  Powers  would  call  "the 
royal  eye" — the  glance  that  does  not  meet  one — 
that  passes  over,  through  and  away — calm,  closed 
lips,  an  air  of  princely  command,  and  the  celestial 
imponderability,  which  Perugino  and  his  compeers 
knew  how  to  give  to  their  angels  and  archangels  so 
astonishingi}^  He  wears  his  heavenly  corselet,  and 
his  limbs  are  clasped  in  ruby  mail ;  a  helmet  of 
precious'  metal  is  upon  his  head — glorious — re- 
sembling that  of  Perugino's  St.  Michael,  in  the  Lon- 
don National  Gallerj" — and  what  a  miracle  is  here 
accomplished  !  The  three  mortal  saints  are  heavy 
v/ith  human  experience  and  suffering,  and,  though 
they  are  holy  men,  the  weight  of  mortality  presses 
them  down,  while  in  the  form  and  countenance  of 
St.  Michael  is  no  trace  of  care,  and  there  is  a  bird- 
like lightness  and  airiness  of  tread  and  motion,  as 
if  he  v/ere  the  insubstantial  breath  of  God.  And 
we  cannot  detect  in  an}''  line  or  tint  the  manner  in 
which  this  is  brought  about.  Genius  alone  could 
not  effect  such  a  marvel,  I  think ;  but  Perugino, 
through  religious  sympathy  and  aspiration,  and  un- 


FLORENCE.  370 

conscious  simplicity  and  singleness  of  aim,  always 
won  the  heavenly  liierarcliies  to  liis  studio,  "  in 
order  serviceable,"  for  portraiture. 

A  Deposition,  by  Filippo  Lippi  and  Perugino  to- 
gether, is  also  a  grand  picture.  Two  angels,  one  on 
each  side  the  Eternal  Father,  who  appears  above, 
are  in  the  noblest  manner;  their  beauty  is  perfect 
and  grand.  They  look  down,  and  fold  their  hands 
before  the  Supreme  Deity.  What  is  remarkable  in 
these  faces  is  a  blending  of  mute,  profound  worship 
with  imperturbable  quiet.  Not  even  the  presence  of 
God  disturbs  their  repose.  His  efSuence  flows 
through  and  through  their  transparent  being,  and 
fills  the  pure  chalices  of  their  lily  souls.  One  is  in 
a  white  robe,  and  I  wish  I  could  make  this  flower  of 
heaven  bloom  to  eyes  that  cannot  see  it  here ;  but 
language  will  not  avail.  Therefore,  what  am  I  to 
do  about  an  Entombment,  still  by  Perugino,  and  I 
am  constrained  to  say  more  povv^erful  to  me  in  senti- 
ment than  any  other,  though  I  have  already  seen 
so  many  that  baffle  my  faculty  of  describing? 

Directly  beneath  an  arch  sits  the  Yirgin  Mary ; 
across  her  knees  lies  the  dead  body  of  Christ,  his  head 
supported  by  St.  John  and  his  feet  resting  upon 
Mary  Magdalen's  lap.  Nicodemus  stands  on  one 
side,  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea  on  the  other.  It  is 
a  long  and  rather  narrow  canvas.  The  head  and 
face  of  Christ  rest  directly  against  the  head  of  St. 
John,  whose  hands  are  beneath  the  arms  of  Jesus 
John  looks  out  of  the  picture,  with  eyes  full  of  a 


CC-0  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

mighty  sorrow,  as  if  tliey  demanded  of  all  the  world 
whether  ever  before  on  earth  were  so  grievons  and 
sad  a  sight  as  this  of  his  murdered  Lord.  His  lips 
tremble  with  the  brimming  woe.  The  expression  is 
a  little  startled,  bnt  amazement  is  overcome  with 
tender  deprecation.  The  contrast  between  the 
troubled  gaze  of  John  and  the  immovable  calm  of 
the  dead  face,  beautiful  in  death,  with  a  broad  light 
on  the  brow  and  lids,  is  grand.  Mary  Magdalen 
sits,  her  hands  clasped,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  life- 
less limbs,  wholly  absorbed  in  that  piteous  spectacle, 
forgetful  of  the  world,  of  the  mother,  and  of  John, 
remembering  only  and  seeing  only  that  Jesus  is 
dead.  I  do  not  remember  that  she  had  beauty  or 
grace,  or  any  entrancing  golden  hair,  or  rich  robe ; 
but  her  face  draws  the  soul  of  the  observer  with 
irresistible  attraction,  on  account  of  the  sentiment 
pervading  it.  What  can  be  said  of  Mary  adolorata? 
The  grief  of  all  the  bereaved  mothers  since  Eve  is  con- 
centred in  hers.  She  turns  her  head  aside,  for  she 
cannot  look  at  her  crucified  Son,  and  she  does  not 
care  to  look  at  anything  else,  so  that  her  gaze  is 
impersonal.  She  is  conscious  of  the  heavy  weight 
of  the  beloved  form ;  but  she  cannot  weep  more. 
Her  grief  is  deeper  than  tears  now,  and  she  asks  for 
no  sympathy  and  Avishes  to  hear  no  word.  The 
sorrow  of  the  others  is  measurable;  but  this 
mother's  sorrow  no  plummet  can  sound,  and  no  one 
can  comfort  her,  Slie  becomes  majestic  from  her  un- 
approachableness  of  emotion.     Nicodemus  lifts  hia 


FLOUENCE.  381 

eyes  upward.  Joseph  contemplates  the  rest ;  and 
the  central  point  is  the  dead  face,  in  sublime  repose. 
The  Worship  of  Sorrow  and  the  Triumph  of  Love 
are  both  begun  here.  It  is  a  divine  poem  on  the 
theme  of  Love  faithful  unto  Death — of  the  heart- 
writhing  pain  of  bereavement,  which  is  tribulation  for 
a  time,  though  for  an  eternity  there  will  be  joy. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  room  is  the  Eternal 
Father,  by  Carlo  Dolce.  Fancy  a  delicately  colored, 
feminine,  weak,  absolutely  foolish  head,  more  feeble 
than  the  weakest  attempts  at  the  head  of  Clirist, 
appearing  to  sink  through  the  clouds  from  help- 
lessness. And  this  Carlo  Dolce  conceived  as  the 
Almighty!  It  is  truly  laughable — but  exquisitely 
painted. 

In  a  small  cabinet  are  many  little  pictures,  from 
which  two  come  out  eminent — an  Entombment,  by 
Fra  Angelico,  and  a  Last  Judgment,  also  by  him. 
The  Entombment  seemed  to  me  his  greatest  work ; 
but  I  cannot  describe  it  now. 

June  19th. — This  morning  we  went  to  the  Church 
of  St.  Lorenzo,  to  see  Michel  Angelo's  monumental 
sculptures.  The  church  is  undergoing  repairs  within 
and  without,  and  heaps  of  rubbish  were  all  around. 
Upon  entering,  I  was  very  much  disappointed  in  the 
general  effect  of  the  interior.  Indeed,  it  is  difficult 
to  be  reconciled  to  the  plain  walls,  after  being  ac- 
customed to  the  magnificent  mosaics  of  marbles  iij 
all  Roman  churches.     But  along  our  journej'  from 


883  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

!Rome  we  found  tlie  walls  bare;  and  in  Florence 
they  are  so  likewise,  so  far  as  I  liave  yet  seen  them. 
On  our  return — no,  on  our  way  from  tlie  Academy 
of  Arts,  the  other  day — we  went  into  the  Duomo. 
It  seemed  very  small  and  dismal  after  St.  Peter's—- 
covered  inside  with  pietra  serena,  a  pale,  brownish 
stone,  grave  and  sombre' — with  no  mosaic  pictures 
to  glorifj^  the  arches,  and  no  chapels  in  the  side- 
aisles.  The  pavement  is  composed  of  beautiful 
marbles,  but  is  so  dim  and  soiled  that  one  can 
hardly  see  them.  It  is  a  relief,  however,  to  find 
none  of  Bernini's  tornadoes  of  saints,  vexing  the 
quiet  atmosphere  at  every  point ;  and  there  are 
scarcely  an}^  monuments  or  statues.  Behind  the 
high  altar,  in  so  dark  a  shadow  that  it  is  nearly  im- 
possible to  see  it,  is  an  unfinished  Pieta,  by  Michel 
Angelo.  It  is  very  curious  to  see  how  he  left  his 
works,  after  expressing  the  idea.  It  seems  as  if  he 
grew  impatient  at  the  slow  process  of  chiselling  the 
marble,  as  he  was  of  the  slow  process  of  painting  in 
oils.  Fresco-painting,  I  suspect,  suited  him  best, 
because  he  could  dash  it  off,  and  find  an  instant  re- 
sponse to  his  thought.  I  tried  hard  to  see  the  Pieta, 
but  could  only  -discern  an  outline  of  the  design, 
which  was  grand. 

The  dome  is  really  larger  than  St.  Peters,  but  it 
appears  to  me  smaller.  It  is  covered  with  frescoes, 
which  I  could  not  distinguish  ;  but  they  are  not  con- 
sidered good,  and  it  is  conjectured  that  the  Floren- 
tines  will  whitewash   them,  as  Assisi  whitewashes 


FLORENCE.  383 

better  things.  The  Duomo  lias,  however,  something 
that  St.  Peter's  has  not,  and  this  is  painted  windows. 
The}'  are  narrow,  but  verj  superb,  and  hght  comes 
only  through  the  faces  and  forms  of  saints,  angols, 
and  prophets,  robed  in  rabies,  sapj)hires,  emeralds, 
and  gold,  glowing — sparkling  at  one  view  with 
points  of  light,  and  at  another  wdth  broad  efful- 
gence. There  should  never  be  a  wdndoAV  in  any 
temple  erected  for  worship,  without  painted  glass,  I 
think.  It  ou2;ht  to  be  as  much  a  matter  of  course 
as  to  have  w^alls  and  roofs.  It  is  poetically  just  that 
the  Life  of  Christ  and  its  consequences,  which  are  a 
flowering  out  of  blessed  and  holy  men,  should  alone 
be  the  medium  of  light,  making  it  glorious.  It  is  so 
inspiring  to  look  up  and  see-  a  divine  face,  radiating 
a  splendor  of  love,  praise,  and  tender  devotion, 
amidst  prismatic  hues  ;  as  if  the  natural  garments  of 
the  ascended  spirits  were  the  pure  colors  of  which  God 
makes  the  rainbows,  or  as  if  the  White  Ray,  ema- 
nating in  concentrated  unity  from  the  countenance  of 
the  Creator,  had  broken  into  the  seven  colors,  in 
flashes  of  rapture,  to  enrobe  His  obedient  children. 

There  is  an  interesting  picture  of  Dante  on  the 
wall, — an  authentic  portrait.  He  is  standing,  wdth 
hell  on  his  right  hand,  Florence  on  his  left,  and 
Paradise  behind  him, — the  seven  heavens  being 
represented  by  seven  circles,  rising  like  steps,  "  very 
much  in  the  shape  of  a  beehive,"  Mr,  H.  suggested. 

Giotto  is  buried  in  this  cathedral,  and  a  bust  of 
him  is  placed  over  his  tomb. 


384  NOTES  IW  ITALY. 

Now  I  return  to  St.  Lorenzo's.  There  is,  on  tlie 
left  of  the  liigh  altar,  a  very  large  fresco,  by  Bron- 
zino,  of  the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Lorenzo,  a  youthful 
fioui'e,  surrounded  by  a  throng.  But  I  never  care 
to  look  twice  at  Bronzino's  pictures.  On  each  side 
the  altar  are  ancient,  oblong  pulpits,  supported 
upon  columns  of  various  marbles,  and  covered  by 
bronze  bas-reliefs. 

At  last  we  found  the  chapel  designed  and  adorned 
by  Michel  Angelo,  It  is  perfectly  j^lain,  v,'ith  white 
walls  and  four  arched  recesses.  In  one  is  the  tomb 
of  Lorenzo;  iu  another,  of  Giuliano;  in  another,  of 
the  father  of  the  reigning  Grand  Duke,  Ferdinand 
III. ;  and  in  the  last,  sitting  statues  of  St.  Damian 
and  St.  Cosmo,  and  the  Yirgin  and  Child,  an  un- 
finished group  by  Michel  Angelo.  The  statue  of 
Giuliano  de  Medici  is  very  life-like  and  s^^irited, 
and  the  grand  Day  and  Night  at  his  feet  make  his 
monument  illustrious  ;  but  the  chef-d' osuvre  of  genius 
is  the  figure  of  Lorenzo,  sitting  opposite.  He  is 
resting  his  chin  upon  his  left  hand,  the  forefinger 
on  his  upper  lip.  The  right  hand  is  upon  his  right 
knee,  and  the  palm  is  turned  outward.  Thei-e  is  a 
wonderful  expression  of  abandonment  to  profound 
meditation  in  this  position  of  the  hand.  His  face  is 
deeply  shaded  by  his  helm,  a  most  graceful  and 
heroic  head-dress,  and  it  is  pressed  down  far  over 
his  brow.  He  wears  a  sort  of  Greek  armor,  coveiiug 
his  whole  person,  except  a  small  portion  of  the  knees  ] 
and  Michel  Angelo  seems  to  have  refrained,  in  this 


FLORENCE.  385 

almost  solitary  instance,  to  mark  tlie  muscles  in  his 
usual  pronounced  way.  He  lias  transferred  all  that 
expression  of  physical  power  and  feeling  to  the  ex- 
pression of  intellectual  power  and  feeling,  which  is 
certainly  vast.  It  becomes  no  longer  a  marble 
image,  but  a  conscious  heroic  prince  and  leader, 
absorbed  in  might}-  purposes  and  cares  of  state, 
anxious  for  his  people.  He  breathes  most  thought- 
ful breath,  and  his  heart  seems  to  throb  with  large 
emotion.  To  me  there  is  a  look  of  terrible  jDer- 
plexity,  fearful  trouble  ;  but  far  beyond  personal 
considerations.  Perhaps  Michel  Angelo  had  no  re- 
gard to  the  private  character  of  Lorenzo,  which 
history  says  was  excessively  bad  (he  was  the  son 
of  Piero,  grandson  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent),  but 
carved  out  an  ideal  father  of  his  people.  Or  perhaps 
Lorenzo  was  an  archangel  ruined,  and  not  a  weak 
sinner,  and  could  not  err  without  an  infinite  remorse. 
At  any  rate,  there  he  is — the  most  potent,  the  most 
fascinating,  the  grandest  human  life  in  marble  yet 
portrayed,  in  which  the  stone  is  no  obstruction,  but 
only  a  fit  medium  of  disembodied  thought.  The 
helmet,  and  the  recess  in  which  he  sits,  make  his 
face  very  dark.  It  may  add  to  the  effect  of  intro- 
spection ;  but  I  should  like  to  see  it  more  distinctly. 
In  the  Cr}stal  Palace  there  is  an  admirable  cast  of 
it,  which  we  liked  better  than  anything  else  there, 
though  it  was  only  in  plaster.  At  his  feet,  upon  the 
sarcophagus,  repose  the  colossal  figures  of  Morning 
and  Evening,  as  they  are  called.     Morning  is  not 

17 


386  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

finislied,  but,  so  far,  is  very  serene  and  noble.  There 
is  great  anxiety  and  trouble  in  tlie  face  of  the  female 
figure,  and  I  do  not  know  why  Evening  should  look 
disturbed,  nor  why  it  should  be  so  old.  Evening  is 
perfectly  finished,  as  well  as  Night  opposite ;  while 
Day  is  merely  blocked  out,  and  looks  over  his  huge 
shoulder  dimly,  like  a  clouded  sun  rising  over  a 
mountain. 

This  plain,  small  chapel  is  called  the  Capella  dei 
Depositi.  Up-stairs  is  the  Medicean  Chapel,  v/hich 
Ferdinand  I.  intended  for  the  reception  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  \\hen  he  should  obtain  it  from  Jerusalem. 
It  is  octagonal,  surmounted  with  a  dome,  brilliant 
with  frescoes  by  Benvenuti.  The  walls  are  entirely 
covered  with  the  richest  marbles ;  and  lapis-lazuli, 
agate,  chalcedon}^  and  jasper,  and  even  precious 
stones,  are  inlaid  in  them  also.  The  ducal  coronets 
of  the  several  princes,  glittering  with  gems,  repose 
upon  cushions,  embroidered  with  jewels,  each  upon 
its  sarcophagus  of  antique  marbles.  The  escutch- 
eons are  magnificently  elaborated  vs^ith  these  j^^^tre 
commessi  e  ditre,  of  their  natural  colors,  so  that  the 
Florentine  mosaic  differs  essentially  from  the  Boman, 
in  which  smalto  is  used, — a  kind  of  hard  enamel, 
artificially  composed.  But  with  all  this  painfully- 
wrought  splendor,  what  a  mere  gewgaw  is  the  Medi- 
cean Chapel  compared  to  the  Capella  dei  Depositi ! 
Genius  and  character  make  paltry  all  the  shining 
show,  and,  do  what  the  Medici  would,  one  looks 
with  more  interest  upon  a  ha;lf-formed,  rough-hewed 


FLOEENGE.  387 

limb  by  Michel  Angelo  than  upon  all  tlie  cold  pomp 
witli  wliich  they  have  emblazoned  their  burial-place. 
"We  did  not  stay  long  there,  but  returned  to  the 
Sagrestia  Nuova,  where  Lorenzo  sits ;  and  after 
another  long  contemplation  of  him,  and  of  the 
Virgin  and  Child,  we  looked  again  at  the  churcli. 
The  nave  has  two  rows  of  noble  pillars,  which,  I 
doubt  not,  belonged  to  the  original  basilica,  which 
was  ruined  by  fire.  It  is  always  a  mystery  to  me 
how  these  stone  edifices  were  so  often  destroj^ed  by 
fire.  What  can  burn  ?  We  walked  all  round ;  but 
there  was  not  one  fine  painting  in  the  shrines,  and 
the  sacred  quiet  of  the  cloisters  is  quite  scared  away 
by  modern  and  secular  dwellings. 

In  the  piazza  is  a  sitting  statue  of  Giovanni  di 
Medici,  the  founder  of  the  family.  It  has  a  remark- 
able head,  and  looks  worthy  to  begin  a  race  of 
heroes.  But  his  posterity  was  far  enough  from 
heroic. 

"We  then  went  to  the  Baptistery,  a  ver}^  small  Pan- 
theon, and  once  lighted  by  an  open  eye  in  the  dome 
like  that,  but  now  it  is  dark,  till  the  eyes  become 
owlish.  It  was  anciently  the  Temple  of  Mars,  and 
is  surrounded  with  oriental  granite,  Corinthian  col- 
umns, the  capitals  gilded,  supporting  an  arched 
balcony,  a  beautiful  arcade.  The  dome  is  covered 
with  old  mosaics.  On  one  side  the  Saviour,  oi 
colossal  proportions,  sits  as  judge.  The  feet  are 
frightfully  grotesque  in  all  the  details.  The  pave- 
ment is  of  inlaid  marbles,  and  in  the  centre  of  it 


388  A'OTES  IW  ITALY. 

once  stood  tlie  font  broken  by  Dante,  v/lien  rescuing 
a  cliild  from  droAvning.  Marble  saints  stand  round 
in  niclies,  and  men  were  to-day  arranging  candelabra 
at  the  feet  of  each  one,  to  be  lighted,  at  the  festival 
of  St.  John,  next  week.  That  is  a  great  day  in 
Florence,  and  there  will  be  illuminations  and  pro- 
cessions also.  The  Baptistery  is  the  Church  of  St. 
John,  and  all  the  baptisms  in  Florence  are  admin- 
istered here  still.  Its  chief  charm  to  me  is  the  Gate 
of  Paradise,  by  Ghiberti.  The  more  I  see  it  the 
more  enchantingiy  beautiful  I  discover  it  to  be,  and 
I  wish  Westmacott  would  not  twaddle  so  about  bas- 
reliefs  as  he  does.  I  do  not  agree  with  him  at  all ; 
but  when  Academicians  get  hold  of  a  rule  they  stul- 
tify themselves  by  holding  to  it,  against  all  the  in- 
tuitions of  genius.  Each  part  of  this  peerless  gate 
surpasses  the  other  parts.  The  single  figures  round 
the  framework,  among  whom  I  recognize  Miriam 
with  her  timbrel,  Judith,  and  other  well  designated 
persons,  seem  best  of  all ;  and,  outside  of  these,  the 
borders  of  flowers,  fruits,  and  animals  are  so  per- 
fectly true  and  lovely  that  nothing  can  be  so  good 
as  they ;  and  then  we  come  to  the  eight  compart- 
ments, containing  sculptured  events  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. The  Fall  of  Jericho  is  marvellous  in  force 
of  expression  and  grace  of  figure  and  movement. 
Can  anything  be  better?  And  so  of  each  one. 
Such  delicate  exactness  and  fidelity  of  finish  satisfies 
one's  soul.  After  this,  an  hour  and  a  half  at  the 
TJffizzi  concluded  our  pleasant  labors  for  the  day. 


FLORENCE  389 

JuMG  27t]i.— I  have  not  written  here  for  a  long 
time,  and  now  I  mnst  gather  up  my  sheaf  of  memories 
— my  goklen  sheaf — as  well  as^I  can.  On  that  day 
at  the  UfSzzi  I  particularly  lingered  in  the  Tribune. 
I  thought  I  recognized  in  one  of  Titian's  Yenuses 
the  face  of  his  "  Bella"  in  the  Pitti.  It  is  a  \'&yj  un- 
attractive face,  with  no  delicacj^  nor  tender  swe(  tiicss 
nor  virgin  modesty  in  either  picture.  Titian  did  nt;t 
seem  able  to  paint  innocence  and  purity^  and  ap- 
parentlj^  had  no  acquaintance  with  those  st.'xtes  of 
being.  The  perfection  of  the  coloring  of  that  Ycnus 
of  the  Tribune,  however,  fascinates  one's  eyes.  It 
is  life  itself.  It  is  such  a  wonder  how  he  did  it,  that 
we  gaze  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  discover  liis  secret, 
and  I  suppose  we  might  almost  as  well  succeed  in 
creating  the  petal  of  a  flower  as  in  imitating  his 
breathing  tissues. 

I  do  not  know  what  is  wanting  in  me,  but  I  can- 
not like  Correggio's  famous  Adoring  Madonna.  Just 
compare  it  with  Perugino's  in  the  Pitti !  One  is 
divine  and  the  other  earthly.  A  girlish  rapture  is 
in  the  face  and  action  of  one,  and  in  the  other  the 
grave,  ineffable  tenderness  of  ideal  maternity,  tlic 
sense  of  a  priceless  gift  of  God,  the  surprise  at  a 
new  soul,  and  a  prophecy  of  something  to  come,  not 
yet  fully  comprehended — something  heavy  as  the 
conscience,  but  sweet,  precious,  and  eternally  dear. 
There  is  more  softness  in  the  lines  of  that  face 
than  is  usual  Avith  Perugino.  As  regards  Gor- 
reggio,  my  eyes   may  be  now  holden,   and   I  may 


890  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

in  time  see  the  cliarm  of  his  rendering,  but  now  I 
cannot. 

I  searched  for  the  Bacchus  which  Michel  Angel o 
sculptured  in  imitation  of  the  Greek,  and  then 
buried,  having  first  broken  off  a  hand.  The  story 
is  well  known.  The  Bacchus  is  in  a  state  of  inebri- 
ation. He  holds  up  a  cup  and  is  crowned  v/ith 
grapes,  and  his  countenance  is  full  of  jollity  and 
folly.  It  is  not  the  Olympian  Bacchus,  the  fairest 
of  the  gods,  w^ho  stands  with  Ampelos  in  one  of  the 
halls  of  the  Uffizzi,  all  beauty,  grace,  benignity,  and 
gay,  eternal  youth ;  but  it  is  a  strong  figure,  given 
over  to  wine  and  fun  ;  though  I  have  no  right  to  say 
anything  about  it  till  I  have  seen  it  more. 

In  the  portrait-hall,  I  looked  at  the  magnificent 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  It  is  covered  with  plate-glass, 
as  very  precious,  and  the  painting  has  become  quite 
obscure.  But  the  grand  drawing  of  the  head  and 
face  is  well  visible  still.  The  beautiful  Raphael  hung 
in  its  place.  He  looked  like  a  dove  among  crows, 
side  by  side  with  those  bearded,  mustachoed,  dark- 
hued  men.  Such  a  pure,  clear  brow ;  and  cheek 
and  chin  "  clean  as  Apollo's"  (as  Mr,  E,  said  of  his 
brother  Charles's),  and  the  graceful  swan-throat 
which  no  man  ever  had  before  or  since — as  I  am  well 
persuaded — these  the  cleaners  have  not  ruined, 
though  they  have  hidden  the  blue  e^^es  and  golden 
hair  beneath  their  black  pigments. 

An  antique  Bacchus  in  the  cross-gallery  I  observed 
for  the  first  time.     The  delicate  lithe  figure  is  in  a 


FLORENCE.  391 

fine  strain  of  excitement,  dancing  with  all  his  life — 
light  as  a  breeze  and  airily  mad.  The  marble  will 
not  hold  it  long,  I  thought. 

On  the  21st  June  it  was  sultry  and  threatened 
rain,  but  we  ventured  to  rush  to  the  Pitti  before  the 
storm  broke  loose,  and  it  is  so  near  us,  that  we  ar- 
rived safely.  In  five  minutes  came  a  tornado  and  a 
thunder-crash,  and  it  rained  floods  for  more  than 
three  hours.  Part  of  the  time  the  lowering  clouds 
made  it  too  dark  to  see  the  pictures  well ;  but  it 
brightened  enough  to  allow  us  a  pretty  good  study. 
A  Holy  Family  by  Pubens  delighted  me.  It  is  not 
at  all  Mary  and  the  Christ,  but  it  is,  however,  a  most 
beautiful  group,  more  refined  and  soft  than  Pubens' 
usual  manner.  The  mother,  a  handsome  Flemish 
lady  of  brilliant  complexion  and  matronly,  benign 
expression,  stands  in  the  centre,  looking  down  upon 
the  two  babies,  an  enchanting  little  pair.  Christ 
(or  one  baby)  is  in  a  cradle,  just  raising  himself  by 
his  left  hand,  while  Avith  the  right  he  caresses  the 
cheek  of  the  other  child,  meant  for  John— who,  with 
both  hands  folded,  gazes  upon  him  with  a  raj^ture 
of  love.  The  children  are  lovel}^  peaches  in  color, 
and  not  so  rotund  and  bouncing  in  form  as  is  usual 
with  Pubens.  An  unwonted  delicacy  then  alighted 
upon  his  pencil.  Elizabeth  holds  John's  little  hands, 
as  she  stoops  behind  him,  and  Joseph  looks  down 
over  the  cradle.  It  is  not  the  family  divine,  but  it 
is  a  noble,  charming  family,  in  Pubens'  highest  style, 

I  mused  a  long  time  over  Perugino's  Adoring  Ma- 


392  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

donna,  whicli  grows  upon  me  tlie  more  I  study  it 
and  a  Deposition  by  liim,  a  very  large  picture,  I  saw 
for  tlie  first  time  on  Monday.  I  like  it  all  exceed- 
ingly except  the  face  of  Christ.  The  Marys  are 
wonderful  in  varied  expression.  As  to  Titian's 
Magdalen,  a  very  large  woman,  quite  nude,  and 
gathering  about  her  a  world  of  golden  hair,  amazing 
as  is  the  beauty  of  her  hair,  I  do  thoroughly  detest 
the  picture.  Such  a  woman  would  be  incapable  of 
repentance.  She  is  coarse  and  earthly  in  every  hbre 
of  her  frame,  and  in  every  recess  of  her  mind.  It  is 
a  pity  that  such  a  woman  should  be  painted  so  well. 
I  have  no  doubt  it  is  a  portrait,  and  I  am  sorry  that 
Titian  knew  such  a  person  and  contemplated  her  so 
minutely.  It  seems  to  show  a  depraved  taste  and 
nature.     How  could  it  have  been  ? 

The  dark,  stat'elj^,  most  noble  and  I  fear  most  ter- 
rible Ippolito  cli  Medici,  attracted  me  as  usual  by 
his  beauty,  his  evil  glance,  and  the  princely  state 
with  which  he  bears  himself.  It  is  one  of  Titian's 
grand  portraits,  and  recalls  Raphael's  Csesar  Borgia 
in  Eome.  A  Cardinal  by  Yandjdie  is  also  one  of 
the  truly  great  portraits,  with  an  air  of  consunimate 
elegance,  high  bred  and  quiet  and  a  little  sad. 
Yandyke  perhaps  caught  the  trick  of  kiugiy  pen- 
siveness  from  the  face  of  Charles  I.  of  England, 
whom  he  so  often  painted.  This  is  Cardinal  Benti- 
voglio. 

I  saw  a  table  to-day  of  extraordinary  splendor. 
The  slab  was  oriental  alabaster,  almost  transparent, 


FLORENCE  393 

like  liquid  topaz  or  amber,  and  in  tliis  were  inlaid 
grapes  of  precious  ametll3^st,  and  birds  and  flowers 
of  other  oriental  stones,  and  thej  all  seemed  iloat- 
ing  in  a  golden  sea. 

One  day  I  went  to  meet  Mr.  Browning  and  tlie 
iiaprovisatrice,  Giovannina  Milli,  at  Miss  H.'s.  Mr. 
Browning  and  liis  little  son  were  there ;  but  no 
improvisatrice.  An  English  Waterloo  Major  Greg- 
orie  was  there  too,  and  a  Mr.  Trollope,  and  Misa 
Blagden,  and  Miss  E.,  a  literary,  elderly  lady,  hor- 
rent with  plumes,  who  was  very  clever.  All  were 
English  excepting  myself.  The  little  Browning 
played  to  us  some  of  his  sonatas  admirably,  though 
he  has  only  known  how  to  play  fourteen  months  ; 
and  I  had  a  delightful  talk  v,dth  his  father,  who  is 
most  fascinating,  with  his  mobile  life  and  his  deep 
earnestness. 

On  the  23d,  we  drove,  in  an  open  barouche,  over 
the  Arno  to  see  the  illuminations  that  illustrated  St. 
John's  Eve — the  Eve  of  St.  John,  sung  of  in  poetry. 
It  Avas  a  scene  of  enchantment.  We  paused  on  the 
Ponte  Vecchio,  and  looked  toward  the  west,  up  the 
river.  The  Ponte  Santa  Trinita  and  Ponte  Carraja 
were  hung  with  globes  of  light,'  like  huge  bubbles, 
and  all  were  reflected  in  the  water  beneath.  The 
parapets,  on  both  sides  the  river,  were  studded  with 
the  same  delicate  globes,  making  a  glittering  cornice, 
doubled  beneath  ;  and  lighted  boats  floated  quietly 
in  every  direction,  each  one  a  moving  constellation 
of  stars,  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  as  well  as  in 

17* 


394  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

the  pictured  world  below.  The  palaces  on  the  Lung' 
Arno  were  kindled  up  over  their  facades,  and.  afa.i 
off,  the  mountains,  a  ,dark,  waving  outline  ;  and 
above,  a  black  sk}',  with  heavy,  windy  clouds,  were 
the  frame  of  this  radiant  pageant.  Through  thick 
crov/ds  of  people,  and  in  a  long  line  of  carriages,  we 
went  on  to  the  Piazza  of  the  Gran  Duca.  But  there 
I  v/as  disappointed.  I  thought  I  should  see  the 
tower  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  a  blaze  of  fire  ;  but 
the  lights  had  been  blown  by  the  wind,  and  a  very 
few  only  remained,  looking  very  wild  and  restless. 
The  noble  Loggia  di  Lanzi,  with  its  statues,  was 
illuminated,  though  inadequately  ;  but  we  could  see 
the  solemn  priestesses  standing, — the  Eomau,  rush- 
ing away  with  the  Sabine  woman,  torn  from  her  hus- 
band,— the  potent  Hercules,  just  about  destroying 
the  Centaur — the  noble  lions,  reposing  in  reserved 
might — the  antique  group  of  Ajax,  dying  or  dead  in 
the  arms  of  a  soldier, — and  a  dim  vision  of  the 
heroic  Perseus,  with  upraised  arm,  holding  Medusa's 
severed  head.  The  light  also  struck  upon  Michel 
Angelo's  David,  and  the  colossal  group  of  Hercules 
and  Cacus,  on  one  side  the  entrance  of  the  Pa- 
lazzo Yecchio,  and  "brought  into  view  the  Neptune 
of  the  fountain.  Meanwhile  a  band  of  musicians 
stood  in  the  Loggia,  performing  sj^mphonies  of  the 
great  composers,  which  made  all  the  marble  figures 
seem  to  live  and  breathe  and  move. 

"We  then  drove  to  the  Piazza  of  the  Duomo.     The 
Duomo  was  kindled  with  little  flames,  and  the  gen* 


FLORENCE.  395 

ertil  blazG  of  the  Piazza  fully  reTealecl  the  beautiful 
Campanile,  climbing  up  into  the  inky  sky,  with  its 
bright  marbles, — the  stately  outline  perfectly  de- 
fined, as  it  could  not  be  by  day.  Whether  the  lights 
had  been  blown  out  on  this  bell-tower,  or  whether 
it  had  been  purj)osely  left  uulighted  for  better  effect, 
I  cannot  tell,  but  the  effect  was  infinitely  better  so. 
Another  band  was  stationed  here,  enriching  the  air 
wdth  Beethoven's  music,  and  by  the  potent  conjura- 
tion of  "inweaved  harmonies"  the  dome  and  the 
Campanile  both  seemed  to  rise  that  moment  into 
space, — the  vast  dome  swelling  with  triumphant 
pomp,  and  piercing  the  darkness  with  its  illuminated 
Cross.  We  then  came  round  to  the  Lung'  Arno, 
where  still  another  band  suddenly  struck  up  Verdi's 
opera  of  the  Traviata,  and  we  waited  to  hear  it, 
wdthin  sight  of  the  river ;  and,  afterward,  we  re- 
turned on  our  way,  and  reviewed  all  our  pictures. 

The  24th  was  St.  John's  Day,  the  chief  day  in 
Florence.  In  the  afternoon.  Miss  H,  kindly  took 
lis  to  the  Palazzo  Villa,  where,  from  a  balcony,  we 
could  overlook  the  Corso,  and  where  we  were  directly 
opposite  the  Loggia  of  the  Grand  Duke,  in  which 
^the  Court  assembled  to  see  the  Eace.  The  race- 
course reaches  from  the  Porta  Santa  Croce  to  the 
Porta  al  Prato,  which,  I  believe,  is  the  gate  that 
opens  upon  the  Cascine.  That  day  it  was  covered 
with  gravel,  and  verj^  thoroughly  v/etted,  because 
the  pavements  here  are  so  suiooth  that  the  horses 
might  slip  upon  them.     All  Florence  was  gathered 


S96  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

on  the  sides  of  tlie  Corso, — on  foot,  and  upon  tempo- 
rary seats,  raised  in  rows  one  above  anotlier,  on 
either  band,  and  at  every  balcony,  window,  and 
roof — all  in  festal  attire.  Slowly  moving  over  tlie 
course  were  two  lines  of  carriages,  as  at  the  Roman 
Carnival ;  but  as  it  v/as  not  Carnival-time,  no  confetti 
were  thrown.  Ladies,  in  ball-dresses,  but  with  bon- 
nets, sat  quietly  and  looked  and  were  looked  upon  ; 
and  every  color  of  the  rainbow,  in  stuffs,  made 
the  scene  gay.  Beneath  our  balcony,  opposite  the 
Ducal  Loggia,  two  battalions  of  soldiers  stood  on 
guard.  Dragoons  rested,  statue-like,  or  pranced  up 
and  down  to  marshal  the  throng.  Fancy  at  the 
corner  of  a  block  of  houses,  a  square,  lofty  apart- 
ment, open  in  front  and  on  one  side,  and  supported 
at  those  openings  by  gray  stone  Corinthian  columns, 
and  you  have  the  royal  Loggia.  Our  balcony  was 
on  a  level  with  it.  It  w^as  richly  carpeted,  and  a 
crimson  divan  v/as  arranged  round  two  sides.  In 
the  centre  stood  six  crimson  and  ormolu  arm-chairs 
— thrones  for  the  roj^al  faniily.  Over  the  solid  bal- 
\istrades,  between  the  side-columns,  crimson-damask 
drapery,  bordered  with  gold,  was  flung  to  lean  upon ; 
but  between  the  central  columns,  heavy  red  velvet 
and  gold  for  the  Grand  Duke  and  Duchess,  and  the 
Archduke  and  Archduchess,  to  rest  their  princely 
arms  upon  withal,  damask  not  being  good  enough 
for  royalty.  Curtains  of  crimson  silk  with  gold 
fringe  were  festooned  between  the  pillars  ;  and  the 
v/alls  within  were  liunQ-  with  white  satin. 


FLORENCE.  ?m 

After  seeiug  endless  carriages  go  and  return  for 
two  hours,  a  sudden  and  most  lugubrious  sound  ol 
ilie  drum,  monotonous  and  inharmonious,  made  me 
look  about,  and  I  saw  a  carriage  with  six  horses  and 
three  footmen  appear,  and  within  were  laces,  bro- 
cades, pearls  and  diamonds,  and  military  uniforms, 
gold-laced  ;  but  as  this  as  well  as  all  the  court- 
carriages  was  covered,  we  could  see  only  half- faces, 
as  we  were  so  high.  Eair  arms  we  saw,  much  be- 
jewelled, however.  There  were  the  Prince Poniatow- 
ski  and  his  Princess.  Many  state-carriages,  each 
with  sis  horses,  followed,  till  a  flourish  of  trumpets 
announced  a  greater  dignity  —  and  this  was  the 
Grand  Duke  himself.  On  his  six  horses  were  postil- 
ions in  green  and  gold.  His  coach  was  golden,  and 
on  the  top  of  it  the  ducal  crown  reposed.  Behind 
stood  three  footmen,  one  (he  who  was  to  lay  his 
hands  upon  Majesty),  entirel}^  in  white  velvet,  Avith 
yellow  boots.  Following  this  cortege  rode  the  Guarda 
Nobile,  the  noble  guard,  in  scarlet  uniform,  with 
white-plumed  helmets,  on  fine  horses — -and  then 
came  several  more  state-carriages,  with  the  rest  of 
the  court.  Twice  this  splendid  train  passed  up  and 
down  the  Corso  for  the  benefit  of  the  beholders ; 
and  to  the  bows  and  greeting  of  the  crowd,  the 
noble  personages  perpetually  raised  half-way  and 
let  fall  again  the  carriage-windows,  quite  a  novel 
style  of  salute. 

Finally,  all  this   goodly  company   was  gathered 
into  the  Loggia.     First   came  the  Pope's  nuncio 


398  NQTE8  IN  ITALY. 

with  purple  legs,  and  a  broad  scarlet  ribbon  round 
his  neck,  meeting  in  a  star  in  front — a  youthful, 
earthly,  fat,  round  priest,  very  unprepossessing,  and 
attended  by  an  attacM.  So  came  the  other  minis- 
ters of  foreign  countries,  with  their  ladies,  and  also 
the  maids  of  honor,  designated  by  bows  on  their 
left  shoulders.  Some  were  fair,  with  coronets  of 
pearls  and  diamonds,  and  clouds  of  illusion-lace, 
and  all,  of  course,  with  rich  brocaded  trains,  which, 
in  the  absence  of  pages,  they  held  on  their  left  arms. 
Faintly  and  lovelily  gleamed  the  pearls  without 
price,  and,  like  fine,  promethean  fire,  burned  and 
flashed  the  diamonds,  certainly  the  royalest  of  gems. 
I  never  till  that  day  witnessed  it  in  such  full  play, 
and  it  certainly  has  a  light  that  is  nowhere  else  to 
be  seen  on  sea  or  land  or  sky.  Such  a  delicate, 
spiritual,  soul  of  a  flame,  piercing  like  ten  thousand 
damascus-blades  of  an  army  of  fairies !  such  an  in- 
describable fineness  of  fierceness — so  etherial  and 
so  real — so  fleeting — ah  !  I  have  it ! — no  !  I  have  it 
not!  too  celestial  to  hold.  It  is  like  the  crossing  of 
wit  in  angels.  It  is  the  symbol  of  angelic  intellects 
in  collision.  It  includes  all  light  and  all  color.  It 
blinds  like  a  ray  from  the  "  Sovereign  Eye,"  or  would 
blind,  if  it  did  not  vanish  as  soon  as  it  comes.  What 
a  deep  significance  has  this  gem  !  Nursed  in  utter 
dark — of  solid  blackness — and  then  becoming  in- 
visible in  purity  absolute,  were  it  not  held  in  sight 
by  combining  all  hues  in  its  hueless  substance. 
"Where  is  so  perfect  an  emblem  of  the  soul,  in  the 


FLORENCE.  399 

concrete?  All  the  precious  jewels  cire  symbolical, 
and  this  is  tlie  secret  of  their  charm,  I  think.  Ah ! 
the  best  of  the  show  to  me,  on  St.  John's  Day,  werQ 
the  diamonds. 

Presently  the  white-haired  Grand  Duke  and  Grand 
Duchess  arrived — the  treacherous  Grand  Duke ! 
Mrs.  Browning  has  deprived  him  of  his  princeliness 
by  the  deeds  of  his  she  has  sung  in  "  Casa  Guidi 
Windows.'  Yet  she  told  me  he  is  a  kind,  devoted 
father  to  his  young  children,  and  even  walks  with 
them  in  his  arms  at  night,  when  they  are  ill ;  and 
so  she  thinks  there  must  be  good  in  him.  He  is 
not  tall,  and  his  hair  is  very  Avhite.  His  dress  was 
embroidered  richly  with  broad  courses  of  gold. 
Over  one  shoulder  a  wide  scarlet  ribbon  passed,  and 
his  breast  was  covered  with  orders  and  stars.  He 
held  a  white  plumed  hat  flat  beneath  his  arm,  and 
wore  buff  hose.  I  had  seen  a  bust  of  the  Grand 
Duchess  in  Mr.  PoAvers'  studio,  and  in  that  she  is 
very  handsome  and  regal-k)oking ;  but  this  clay  she 
was  extremely  red,  and,  though  gracious  and  stateh% 
was  not  beautiful.  Twelve  years  have  passed,  how- 
ever, since  the  bust  was  taken.  She  wore  a  white 
silk  petticoat  trimmed  with  lace — a  pink  damask 
train,  flowered  with  silver — a  scarlet  ribbon  over 
one  shoulder — pink  and  white  marabouts  in  her 
hair,  waving  off  from  a  coronet  of  flashing  jewels. 
But  the  young  Archduchess  was  lovely.  She  also 
was  in  white  and  pink,  with  pink  marabouts  and  a 
band   of    large   pearls   and    scintillating    diamond 


400  JV0TU3  IN  ITALY. 

points  round  lier  liead.  The  Arclidiike  was  most 
repulsive  in  countenance,  but  v.dtli  a  good  figure,  in 
military  costume.  The  Grand  Duchess  walked 
round  her  court,  first  speaking  to  the  Ministers,  and 
then  to  all  the  ladies,  with  one  of  whom  she  talked 
a  great  while.  It  was  very  nice  to  watch  at  will 
this  living  picture  of  the  royal  group — to  see  them  in 
full  dress,  moving,  courtesying,  laughing,  practising 
le  bel  air — their  ease  and  their  grace.  It  was  much 
more  full  of  life  than  the  Court  of  Lisbon,  which  is 
the  only  one  at  which  I  have  been  presented.  There 
was  no  queen  there,  which  ma}' have  been  one  cause 
of  the  excessive  stifi"ness  and  formality.  The  ladies 
sat  round  the  walls  of  the  saloons,  like  so  many 
statues,  and  when  the  King  approached,  six  would 
start  up  at  once,  with  a  sort  of  galvanic  shock,  to 
receive  him  ;  and  when  he  passed  on,  these  six 
would  sink  down,  and  other  six  rise  in  their  stead, 
and  they  said  little  else  besides  "  Yes,  Sire"  (Si, 
Sire). 

Presently  the  poor  horses,  goaded  by  leathers, 
pricked  with  points,  rushed  by,  and  the  Grand  Duke 
and  Duchess  leaned  on  their  velvet  to  look  at  them. 
It  was  all  over  in  a  twinkling.  The  Princess  Bona- 
parte meanwhile  came  into  our  balcony  to  see  the 
sights — a  lady  with  a  most  singular  countenance, 
white  as  diifted  snow,  with  not  a  particle  of  color. 
She  seemed  hardly  human — not  alive — an  image  of 
dead  white  wax.  "We  then  ate  ice-creams,  and  were 
exceedingly  comfortable. 


FLORENCE.  401 

June  25tli. — We  spent  this  evening  at  Casa  Giiidi. 
I  saw  Mrs.  Browning  more  satisfactorily,  and  she 
grows  lovelier  on  farther  knowing.  Mr.  Browning  gave 
me  a  pomegranate  bud  fron  "  Casa  Guidi  "Windows," 
to  press  in  my  memorial-book.  He  is  full  of  vivid 
life,  like  a  rushing  river.  I  should  think  nothing 
could  resist  the  powerful  impetus  of  his  mind  and 
heart ;  and  this  eifervescing,  resplendent  life — fresh 
every  moment,  like  a  waterfall  or  a  river— seems  to 
have  a  shadow  over  it,  like  a  light  cloud,  as  if  he 
were  perplexed  in  the  disposal  of  his  forces.  An 
anxious  line  is  on  his  brow.  His  voice  is  glad  and 
rich — a  union  of  oboe  and  flute  tones. 

The  finest  light  gleams  from  Mrs.  Browning's 
arched  eyes — for  she  has  those  arched  eyes  so  un- 
usual, with  an  intellectual,  spiritual  radiance  in  them. 
They  are  sapphire,  with  dark  lashes,  shining  from  out 
a  bower  of  curling,  very  dark,  but,  I  think,  not  black 
hair.  It  is  sad  to  see  such  deep  pain  furrowed  into 
her  face — such  pain  that  the  great  happiness  of  her 
life  cannot  smooth  it  away.  In  moments  of  rest 
from  speaking  her  countenance  reminds  one  of  those 
mountain-sides,  ploughed  deep  with  spent  watei- 
torrents,  there  are  traces  in  it  of  so  much  grief,  so 
much  suffering.  The  angelic  spirit,  triumphing  at 
moments,  restores  the  even  surface.  How  has  any- 
thing so  delicate  braved  the  storms  ?  Her  soul  is 
mighty,  and  a  great  love  has  kept  her  on  earth  a 
season  longer.  She  is  a  seraph  in  her  flaming  wor- 
ship of  heart,  while  a  calm,  cherubic  knowledge  sits 


403  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

entLroned  on  lier  large  brow.  How  slie  remains  vis- 
ible to  ns.  witb  so  little  admixture  of  earth,  is  a  mys- 
tery ;  but  fortunate  are  tlie  eyes  that  see  her,  and 
the  ears  that  hear  her. 

June  26th. — I  stood  long  at  the  gate  of  the  Bap- 
tistery this  morning,  and  I  saw  why  Raphael  studied 
and  copied  those  figures.  He  drew  from  them 
some  of  his  ineffable  grace.  In  the  afternoon  we 
drove  to  Bellosguardo,  to  take  tea  with  Miss  Blag- 
den  at  her  Yilla  Brichieri.  The  balcony  commands 
a  magnificent  view  of  Florence  and  the  surround- 
ing mountains.  There  blooms  the  Flower-City, 
with  the  Duomo  in  its  chalice.  The  soft  heights 
immediately  around  are  crowned  with  castles,  tow- 
ers, and  villas,  lihe  white  and  yellow  lilies  among 
the  green  foliage.  Galileo  lived  in  one  of  them, 
and  in  one  Savonarola  was  imprisoned.  Many  il- 
lustrious men  make  the  landscape  rich  with  heroic 
memories.  Day  faded  away  over  the  Val  d'Arno 
on  the  left  of  us,  as  we  looked  forth.  After  tea 
we  went  out  again,  and  a  wonderful  ceremony, 
a  "function,"  was  then  going  on  in  the  east,  in 
which  the  state-dress  was  cloth  of  silver.  The  same 
costly  material  was  soon  flung  over  the  whole  vallej', 
for  the  Queen  of  Night  arose,  without  the  thinnest, 
slightest  veil  of  illusion  over  the  keen  splendor  of 
her  royal  face,  and  Mr.  Browning  was  talking  to  us  ! 
It  seemed  like  a  wonderful  dream,  and  not  a  real 
experience  in  this  work-a-daj'  world.    On  our  return, 


FLORE  FOE.  403 

the  city  gate  swung  up  in  tlie  air  to  let  our  carriage 
pass  iiuder,  and  we  might  have  smuggled  Mazzini 
into  Florence  ;  for  though  they  asked  us  a  question, 
they  did  not  look  into  our  midst,  and  the  guard  ou 
duty  quietly  stood  aside. 

June  28th, — This  morning  was  verj^  fine  and  cool, 
and  we  went  to  Santa  Croce,  "  the  Westminster  Ab- 
bey of  Florence"  (says  the  book),  because  great  men 
are  buried  there.  It  is  large  and  stately,  with  rows 
of  many-sided  columns,  clothed  to-day  in  red  and 
yellow  damask,  because  a  Function  was  in  process. 
The  high  altar  was  lighted  up  with  a  multitude  of 
wax  candles,  and  tliere  was  chanting  and  organ- 
bursts,  and  genuflexions,  and  bells,  and  swinging  of 
censers. 

Michel  Angelo's  monument  is  surmounted  with 
a  faithful  portrait  bust  of  him,  which  was  deeply  in- 
teresting to  see.  I  know  his  face  now  perfectly  well. 
Figures  of  sculpture,  painting,  and  architecture  sit 
mourning  round  the  sarcophagus.  Architecture  is 
the  best.  There  Avas  something  tawdry  about  the 
adornments  over  the  bust,  not  respectful  to  the 
mighty  genius — a  sort  of  daubing  of  mock  draj^ery. 
How  could  they  do  so,  right  before  his  face,  and  he 
so  true — a  despiser  of  shams  ?  I  felt  ashamed.  The 
too  late  monument  to  Dante  is  not  good  at  all.  The 
poet  sits,  leaning  on  his  hand,  with  the  well-known 
features  and  profile  ;  but  they  have  put  a  laurel 
crown  on  his  head,  in  a  sort  of  tiara  fashion,  which 


404  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

takes  away  from  the  likeness ;  and  he  is  very  sterii^ 
as  if  sitting  in  judgment  on  his  beloved  and  ungrate- 
ful Florence.  Florence  (I  presume)  stands  on  the 
pedestal  of  the  sarcophagus,  and  points  to  Dante, 
sitting  above,  with  an  air  of  peculiar  bravado,  and 
says,  "  Quorate  I'altissimo  Poeta,"  indicating  im- 
periously those  inscribed  words  with  her  linger.  A 
weeping  figure  is  on  the  other  side ;  but  I  do  not 
know  who.  The  wall-crown  of  the  other  showed  her 
to  be  a  citj^  Farther  on  is  Alfieri's  monument,  cut 
by  Canova  and  erected  by  the  Countess  of  Albany 
It  is  not  good  for  anything  to  me.  One  draped 
mourner  stands  leaning  on  the  tomb.  Some  of  the 
pictures  of  the  chapels  were  by  Yasari,  who  never 
interests  me,  and  some  were  by  Bronzino,  equally 
indifferent  to  my  fancy ;  and  finally  we  arrived  at 
the  south  transept,  out  of  which  opens  the  chapel 
of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  which  we  entered.  There 
we  found  some  good  and  curious  old  china  statues 
of  saints,  by  Luca  della  Robbia.  In  the  south 
transept  was  a  painting  of  the  Coronation  of  the 
Virgin,  on  a  gold  ground,  by  Giotto,  with  crowds  of 
saints  and  angels — beautiful  heads.  After  seeing 
so  many  ordinary  altar-pictures,  it  was  inspiring  to 
meet  again  a  truly  devout  one.  And  on  the  left 
side  of  the  same  chapel  were  frescoes  by  Taddeo 
Gaddi — the  Presentation  at  the  Temple,  the  Mar- 
riage of  the  Virgin,  and  an  Assumption.  One  may 
look  at  any  number  of  Bronzino's  or  of  Vasari's 
pictures  till   one   is   blind,  and   not   be   moved   oi 


FLORENCE.  405 

affected  b}'  a  face  or  form  or  sentiment.  Bat  Gi- 
otto or  Taddeo  Gaddi  immediately  rouses  atten- 
tion and  reverence.  I  am  never  wearj  of  tliera. 
Mr.  H.  declared  that  Giotto  would  be  the  death  of 
him  ;  for  he  hates  to  see  half-obliterated  and  pale 
wrecks  of  these  old  masters.  But  I  live  better  for 
even  pale  Giottos,  and  the  whole  quaint,  devout  old 
band,  in  any  stage  of  ruin. 

On  the  other  side-aisle  we  found  Galileo's  tomb, 
and  that  of  Morghem,  the  famous  engraver,  and 
finally  we  got  into  some  chapels  painted  by  Giotto 
and  Giottino.  Here  I  was  again  glad  and  Mr.  H. 
desperate ;  for  they  had  all  beei]  whitewashed  over, 
and  only  lately  brought  to  view  by  a  zealous  priest; 
and  so  they  were  injured  and  then  repaired  and 
patched.  There  was  an  Entombment,  and  events  in 
the  life  of  St.  Francis.  I  found  many  noble  expres- 
sive faces  and  figures  through  all  the  broken  surface  ; 
and  when  the  services  at  the  altar  were  over,  I  went 
to  a  chapel  on  the  right  of  it,  entirely  painted  over  by 
Giotto.  A  queenly  Elizabeth  of  Hungary  is  in  one 
panel,  and  the  sides  are  illustrated  with  the  life  of 
St.  Francis,  wonderful  forms,  which  I  must  tr}^  to 
record  another  time  for  my  future  delectation ;  but 
not  now.  Though  vanishing  into  the  past,  I  could 
still  catch  the  grand  lines,  the  majestic  repose  an  1 
religious  solemnity  of  expression.  Oh,  where  are 
the  artists  to  draw  these  departing  glories,  that 
they  may  be  engraved  for  a  never-ending  inspiration 
to   all  present  and  future  time !      Can   this   child- 


103  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

like,  unconscious  grandeur  ever  again  be  found  in 
art  ? 

In  the  piazza  is  a  palace,  wliose  fagade  is  covered 
■with,  fine  but  faded  frescoes  by  the  best  artists  of 
the  day.  It  is  the  Pahizzo  of  Niccolo  dell'  Antella, 
and  a  bust  of  one  of  the  Medici  is  over  the  great 
arched  entrance.  It  was  in  this  piazza  that  assem- 
blies of  the  people  were  held,  and  the  free  institu- 
tions of  Florence  first  established.  The  short-lived 
Liberty  was  born  there,  and  it  has  a  fountain  from 
which  flows  the  only  pure  water  in  the  city. 

We  went  through  the  Via  del  Librai,  where 
frowns  the  palace  of  the  former  hateful  Podesta — 
a  vast  fortress,  v.'ith  a  lofty  tower  at  one  end,  now  a 
prison.  In  the  court  of  the  Duomo,  we  delaj-ed 
awhile  by  the  "  Sasso  di  Dante,"  where  he  used  to 
sit  and  look  at  the  Campanile  and  the  Cathedral,  as 
an  inscription  on  a  marble  slab  in  the  wall  an- 
nounces. Near  by,  sit  also,  in  marble,  Brunelleschi 
and  Arnolfo  de  Lapa,  the  illustrious  architects — 
one  gazing,  with  upturned  head,  at  the  noble  works 
before  him.  Of  course  Ave  lingered  round  the  Gate 
of  Paradise.  With  what  a  breezy  grace  stand  the 
augels  before  the  prostrate  Abraham  !  I  have  seen 
no  figures  so  much  like  Raphael's  as  Ghiberti's. 
He  was  surely  a  kindred  spirit.  The  heads  in  very 
high  relief  round  the  framework  are,  I  believe,  all 
portraits.  Ki  any  rate,  the  perfectly  bald  one  is 
Ghiberti  himself.  The  walls  of  Jericho  will  inevita- 
bly fall  fiat  at  the  blast  of  those  trumpets,  blown 


FLORENCE.  407 

witli  sucli  vigor.  Three  women,  just  beliiud  some 
men  wlio  carry  heavy  stones  to  batter  the  city  withal, 
are  \\onders  of  statel}'  grace.  The  beauty  and  ex- 
pression of  the  countenances  are  very  marvellous. 
Indeed  Ghiberti  was  one  of  the  miracles  of  genius. 
I  wish  the  precincts  of  the  Baptistery  were  not  a 
coach-stand,  so  that  one  coidd  be  more  quiet  while 
looking  at  this  gate.  It  is  so  precious,  too,  that  I 
do  not  like  to  have  it  endangered  by  the  accidents 
of  time.  I  think  I  would  put  it  under  plate-glass 
within  the  eternal  walls  of  the  Pitti  Palace.  It 
should  not  be  out  of  doors. 

We  thought  we  would  visit  the  Palazzo  Eiccardi. 
Mr.  Yfare  ventures  to  compare  it  to  the  Coliseum. 
It  is  grand  and  high  and  majestic  ;  but  it  is  no  more 
to  be  compared  to  the  Coliseum  than  a  mole-hill  to 
a  mountain.  Besides,  it  has  an  ever-enduring  new- 
ness of  aspect.  No  ruin  can  be  imagined  of  it. 
Every  one  of  those  mighty  stones  of  rough  Tuscan 
finish  will  look  just  as  now  when  time  shall  be  no 
longer.  They  can  never  decay,  and  never  appear  old. 
And  the  Coliseum  could  hide  it  away  in  one  of  its 
own  yast  recesses — in  one  of  its  great  pockets.  When 
I  look  at  these  dark,  indestructible,  gloomy  palaces, 
they  terrify  me  with  a  sense  of  hopelessness.  They 
are  deiiaat  with  strength,  and  like  prisons  from 
which  there  is  no  escape.  But  always  thej^  seem  to 
be  finished  to-day,  and  not  to  belong  to  the  past, 
though  they  are  half  a  thousand  years  old  already. 
This  clear,  bright  atmosphere  can  never  harm  them. 


408  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

And  tlie  Coliseum,  softened  by  the  ages  in  tint,  and 
genial  in  the  first  place,  being  of  buff  ti^avertine, 
looks  hoary  with  the  years  that  have  passed  ;  and 
flowers  and  moss  and  ivy,  and  even  trees,  groAv  upon 
and  out  of  its  stones.  It  is  the  Kuin  of  E-uins. 
Could  a  flower  be  persuaded  to  plant  its  delicate  foot 
in  a  crevice  of  the  terrible  Pitti,  Riccardi,  or  Strozzi? 
Could  a  crevice  ever  even  be  found  in  that  nicely- 
fitted,  firmly-compacted,  unsympathizing  mass?  No- 
thing so  soft  as  earth  could  rest  there.  When  a 
prince  gets  inside  those  walls,  can  he  feel  any  pity  ? 
The  Kiccardi  is  now  devoted  to  Government 
offices.  Soldiers  keep  guard  before  the  entrance ; 
but  we  walked  in  without  being  molested.  The 
first  court  is  surrounded  with  Corinthian  columns  of 
oriental  granite.  The  loggie  behind  the  columns  are 
filled  with  sculptures — busts,  statues,  three  antique 
sarcophagi  and  bas-reliefs,  and  a  beautiful  large 
porphyry''  vase  of  an  oval  shape.  On  the  right-hand 
side,  as  one  enters,  is  a  grand  staircase,  leading 
from  the  loggia,  with  ancient  marble  statues,  in 
niches,  on  the  way  up.  We  were  guided  into  a 
glorious  little  chapel,  paved  with  mosaics,  and  its 
walls  beautifully  frescoed  by  Benozzo  Gozzoli,  and 
as  fresh  as  if  painted  just  now,  though  they  are 
three  hundred  and  eighty  years  old !  They  have 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  eternal  walls,  and  never 
mean  to  fade.  Lovely  angels,  kneeling  in  perpetual 
prayer — hunters  radiant  for  the  chase,  and  the 
famous  foreshortened  ass.     I  thought  of  Mr.  Brown- 


FLORENCE.  409 

ing's  poem  of  tlie  Statue  and  tlie  Bust,  and.  ques- 
tioned whether  the  unfortunate  Princess  Eiccardi 
ever  knelt  doAvn  in  this  chapel,  either  in  despair  or 
in  penitence. 

From  the  Chapel  we  went  to  the  Gallery,  probably 
once  a  ball-room,  and  now  used  for  the  meetings  of 
the  Delia  Crusca  Society.  It  is  panelled  with  plate- 
mirrois,  upon  which  are  painted  Cupids  and  wreaths 
of  flowers,  as  in  some  of  the  Eoman  palaces.  The 
arched  ceiling  is  covered  with  frescoes — in  the  centre 
the  apotheosis  of  the  Medici!!  Tough  work  have 
the  angels  to  lift  the  Medici  above  the  world ! 
There  they  are,  with  their  ignoble  faces,  endeavoring 
to  rise  through  the  air.  The  aforementioned  under 
lip  of  Leopold  alone  might  make  an  angel  stagger. 
All  around  are  symbolical  groups — the  whole  by  II 
Yolteranno.  It  v/as  a  baby-house  compared  to  the 
magnificent  gallery  of  the  Colonna  at  Rome ;  and  I 
was  much  disappointed  to  find  no  oil-paintings  in  it. 
On  the  sides  of  the  apartment  were  ranged  innu- 
merable tabourets  of  red  damask,  and  no  other 
furniture.  These  are  common  in  palaces,  standing 
in  solemn  rows.  The  furniture  of  palaces  never 
seems  to  be  available.  The  chairs  are  generally  as 
large  and  ponderous  as  thrones  ;  and  no  one  would 
think  of  moving  them  into  a  companionable  group. 
The  superb  tables  of  ormolu,  with  tops  of  precious 
marbles  and  jewels,  must  not  be  used  to  hold  any- 
thing ;  for  if  anything  were  put  upon  them,  some 
exquisite  flower,  composed  of  amethyst,  agate,  coral- 
18 


410  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

line,  or  sardonyx,  with  leaves  of  malachite — or  some 
bird  of  Paradise,  of  chalcedony,  diaspre,  and  pearl, 
would  be  hidden.  There  is  no  iuhabitableness  in 
halls  of  state,  no  place  for  the  heart,  no  inducement 
to  live  and  unfold,  so  wonderful  are  the  compensa- 
tions of  Providence  ! 

In  the  afternoon  Miss  Blagden  came  in  her  car- 
riage to  drive  me  to  Bellosguardo,  to  look  at  a  villa 
which  she  hopes  we  will  take  for  August  and  Sep- 
tember, because  she  thinks  we  should  not  be  safe  in 

Florence  during  the  dog-days.     J went  with  us. 

The  weather  was  brilliant,  and  we  had  a  charming- 
excursion.  I  found  a  sumptuous  villa  for  delight, 
with  multitudinous  halls  and  chambers — with  deeply 
shaded  avenues ;  clear,  smooth  lawn  and  semicir- 
cular terraces — a  strong,  old,  gray-stone  tower,  at 
one  end,  where  owls  do  whoop  and  hoot  and  sit,  "  to 
warm  their  wit,"  and  in  which  Savonarola  was  im- 
prisoned. But,  above  all,  the  view  from  it,  who  can 
paint  or  describe  ?  Prom  the  tower  Florence  can  be 
seen,  and  from  the  windows  of  the  villa  we  looked 
upon  a  rich  plain  of  great  extent,  Pistoia  afar  off, 
and  the  lovely  mountains  keeping  watch  and  ward  ; 
and,  at  that  moment,  receiving  into  their  fastnesses 
the  sun,  who  was  retiring  to  rest  in  great  pomp  of 
gold.  The  air  was  nectar  and  elixir.  I  think  we 
must  go  there. 

June  29th. — In  the  afternoon  I  took  U.  and  E-.  to 
the  Race,  with  Ada.     We  had  a  much  more  favor- 


FLOMEWCE.  Al'i 

able  situation  for  seeing  the  pageant  than  before, 
and  conld  sit  all  the  time.  It  was  not  a  day  of  sucli 
state  as  St.  John's  Da}',  and  it  closed  the  festival. 
The  court  came  to  the  royal  loggia,  but  not  in  full 
dress.  There  were  no  trains  nor  coronets  of  dia- 
monds and  pearls,  and  no  scarlet  ribbons  over  shoul- 
ders ;  neither  did  the  Grand  Duke  drive  in  his 
golden  coach,  with  the  crown  atop.  As  it  luckily 
chanced  in  the  course,  the  royal  carriage  was  obliged 
to  stop  just  before  us,  and  we  had  three  or  four 
minutes  to  stare  straight  into  the  faces  of  the  Grand 
Duke  and  Duchess.  The  Grand  Duke  looked  like  a 
monkey,  with  an  evil  disposition,  most  ugly  and 
mean.  The  lady  has  not  a  ray  of  beauty  left,  but 
amiably  kept  bowing  to  the  people  every  instant. 
But  it  was  worth  while  to  see  the  young  Archduchess 
who  followed.  She  is  most  lovelj'' — pale  and  sweet. 
Her  dark  hair  was  rolled  back  and  confined  with  a 
band  of  pearls,  and  blue  marabouts  waved  from  it, 
and  her  robe  was  azure  brocade.  All  the  maids  of 
honor  wore  wreaths  of  flowers  round  their  heads. 
The  Grand  Duke  has  that  frightful,  coarse,  pro- 
truding under  lip,  peculiar  to  the  imperial  race  of 
Austria  and  formerly  of  Spain.  It  is  worth  while  to 
extinguish  the  race,  for  the  sake  of  expunging  that 
lip  and  all  it  signifies.  No  man  with  such  a  mouth 
can  love  liberty  or  spiritual  things.  It  got  into  the 
Medici  family  somehow — probably  by  marriage,  and 
it  plunges  one  into  musing  to  see  how  inexorable  is 
Uature   in   avenging  broken  laws ;  while,  also,   she 


il2  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

"  never  did  betray  the  heart  that  loved  her,"   as 
Wordsworth  says. 

The  scene  was  very  gay,  and  the  crowd  most 
orderly  and  gentle,  like  all  Tuscan  crowds.  We 
could  see  the  course  even  to  the  Porta  al  Prato ; 
and  after  the  court  had  arrived,  the  carriao'es  left 
the  street,  and  a  body  of  dragoons,  slowly  and 
courteously,  drove  all  the  people  off  the  Corso,  in 
preparation  for  the  horses.  Two  men  were  killed 
the  other  day,  and  therefore  great  precautions  were 
taken  now.  As  soon  as  the  poor  steeds  were  let  to 
run,  the  six  roj-al  people  leaned  over  their  baluster 
to  see  ;  and  then  the  Grand  Duke  threw  a  paper 
to  some  privileged  person,  which  caused  immense 
merriment,  and  the  Duchess  laughed  very  much. 
I  have  yet  to  discover  what  this  paper  was.  *  * 
We  did  not  arrive  home  till  nearly  eight,  and  though 
all  Florence  was  in  the  streets,  the  city  was  as  quiet 
and  safe  as  a  drawing-room. 

June  30th. — This  morning,  I  went  with  the  chil- 
dren and  Ada  to  the  Academy  of  Arts,  and  to  the 
Pietre-dure  Kooms.  In  the  first  of  the  latter  are 
specimens  of  all  the  pietre  dure  stones  used  in  Flo- 
x-entine  mosaic,  in  their  rough  state;  then  specimens 
of  each,  polished.  I  had  no  idea  that  there  was  such 
a  rich  variety  used  in  mosaics.  Agates  of  all  realms 
and  of  exquisite  beauty — chalcedony,  coralline,  mal- 
achite, lapis-lazuli  of  all  combinations  of  tints — the 
oriental,  of  deepest  and  purest  blue  shades,  and  the 


FLOEENQE.  413 

French;  mucli  mixed  witli  bright,  gold  veins ;  green 
and  red  porphyries,  jaspers,  many  kinds  of  sardonyx 
and  onyx,  nero,  rosso,  giallo  and  verde  antico,  ser- 
pentine of  Egypt  (also  green),  granites  of  all  coun- 
tries, some  very  beautiful,  of  a  rosy  hue — which  was 
surprising  to  me  (I  having  been  accustomed  to  sup- 
pose the  gray  New  England  granite  the  only  one) — 
terra  di  paese— a  wonderful  stone,  whose  markings 
resemble  ruins  of  temples  and  cities — amethj^sts, 
crystal,  alabasters,  both  oriental  and  occidental — 
samples  of  all  the  marbles  in  the  world,  some 
marked  with  mosses  and  ferns,  some  with  lovely 
shells — and  a  marble  called  "flowers  of  Persia," 
from  its  gorgeous  colors  ;  and  another  named  "  stel- 
laria,"  from  its  starred  appearance.  I  cannot  recol- 
lect a  tenth  part,  however.  Four  rooms  were  sur- 
rounded with  cases  filled  Avith  specimens,  all  num- 
bered, and  for  each  room  were  six  or  seven  printed 
lists,  in  the  form  of  hand-screens,  for  visitors.  It  is, 
as  usual  with  the  Grand  Ducal  treasures,  free  to  the 
public,  not  a  crazia  being  required  as  fee.  Guards, 
in  the  royal  livery,  keep  watch.  After  this  suite  of 
precious-stone  saloons  came  a  gallery,  with  copies 
in  mosaic  of  oil  paintings — and  then  another,  with 
niore  of  these,  but,  in  addition,  cabinets  of  the  best 
work  executed  there,  in  small  articles — little  land- 
scapes, figures  in  groups,  birds,  flowers,  and  ara- 
besques. I  saw  on  this  wall  the  model  for  the  ad- 
mirable mosaic  of  the  Pantheon,  which  I  liked  so 
much  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  also  models  of  some 


414  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

of  the  tables  there.  Then  followed  a  large  saloon, 
■with  superb  inlaid  cabinets,  vases,  large  and  small 
tables,  and  a  great  part  of  the  ornaments  for  the 
altar  in  the  Modicean  Chapel  at  San  Lorenzo.  Some 
of  these  \Yere  high -reliefs  in  precious  stones  !  figures 
of  saints  and  angels  and  solid  birds.  Fancy  an  angel 
arrayed  in  robes  of  real  amethyst,  chalcedony,  jas- 
per, topaz,  and  ruby,  starred  with  crystals  (perhaps 
diamonds)  and  emeralds !  Petrified  woods  make 
some  of  the  most  superb  stones. 

In  the  Academy  of  Arts  we  spent  nearly  two  hours 
in  the  first  gallery.  The  Assumption  of  the  Yirgin, 
the  Pieta,  and  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  by  Peru- 
gino,  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  by  Gentile  di 
Fabria,no,  the  Deposition,  by  Era  Angelico,  and  a 
few  others,  occupied  us  all  that  time.  All  vfere  bet- 
ter upon  farther  knowing. 

July  1st. — To-day  we  set  forth  to  see  the  house  of 
Michel  Angelo,  where  he  once  lived,  and  where  a 
Buonarotti,  minister  of  state,  now  resides,  and  allows 
the  palace  to  be  shown  every  Thursday.  But  after 
our  long  walk  we  were  disappointed,  because  repairs 
are  going  on  in  it.  So  we  went  into  the  Church  of 
Santa  Croce,  and  looked  at  the  beautiful  marble 
pulpit,  cut  in  bas-relief,  in  the  cinque-cento  style, 
which  I  did  not  examine  before.  But  I  am  now 
thinking  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  which  we  afterward 
visited.  The  Cortile,  with  its  sculptured  columns, 
fountains,  and  frescoed  walls,  is  noble ;   and  from 


FLORENCE.  415 

fcliat  we  went  up  some  right  royal  staircases, — broad 
and  low  steps,  so  low  that,  instead  of  using  effort 
to  go  up,  they  seemed  to  lift  one  along  with  a  buoy- 
ant bound.  Not  even  those  of  the  Barberini  Palace 
are  equal  to  them.  Up,  up,  and  up  we  mounted,  to 
be  sure,  for  on  the  continent  nothing  is  down-stairs 
worth  seeing.  "We  must  climb  near  to  the  sky  first. 
At  last  we  attained  a  large  ante-room,  "  in  faded 
splendor  wan"  (for  in  this  palace  the  Medici  for- 
merly displayed  great  state).  The  Avails  on  three 
sides  were  covered  with  go\d  fleurs-de-lis,  and  on  the 
fourth  were  frescoes  by  Domenico  Ghirlandaio,  the 
master  of  Michel  Angelo.  From  this  we  entered 
the  Hall  of  Audience,  covered  by  frescoes  of  the 
deeds  of  Camillus,  by  Salviati,  and  it  had  a  gor- 
geous ceiling  of  sunken  panels  and  bosses,  with 
argosies  of  gold  upon  them.  Three  large  cabinets 
were  there,  containing  carvings  in  ivory  of  the  most 
delicate  beaiity,  and  the  custode  said  that  some  of 
them  were  the  work  of  Benvenuto  Cellini  himself. 
One  cabinet  was  filled  with  an  altar-service  of  a 
hundred  or  more  pieces,  carved  out  of  the  finest 
amber,  of  both  the  transparent  and  opaque  kinds — 
cups,  crucifixes,  vases,  many  varieties  of  pyx,  and 
other  vessels,  of  which  I  do  not  know  the  names. 
They  were  like  lucid  gold,  or  sunshine  crystallized, 
and  polished  like  glass.  This  superb  equipage  once 
covered  the  altar  of  the  private  chapel  of  the  palace. 
No  doubt  many  of  the  figures  and  cups  were  cut  by 
Benvenuto  Cellini ;  but  the  custode  did  not  say  so. 


416  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

The  chapel  is  small,  but  exceedingly  precious ;  foi 
it  is  painted  all  over  Avith  frescoes  by  Bidolfo  Gliir- 
landaio — angels,  cherubs,  prophets,  saints  ;  and  the 
Annunciation  is  at  one  end.  The  frescoes  are  very 
grand — glorious  little  cherubs — grouped  like  bou- 
quets of  flowers  in  circles — and  mighty  old  prophets 
and  evangelists,  sitting  in  eternal  repose  —  and 
sacred  heads,  with  the  peace  of  heaven  in  them, 
painted  in  medallions  over  the  altar,  as  if  they 
beamed  through  the  walls  in  answer  to  earnest 
prayer,  revelations  of  a  future,  happy  world.  What 
a  pity  it  is  that  any  wall  should  remain  a  dead  blank 
when  they  might  all  blaze  vv-ith  glory  in  this  way, 
and  wake  the  soul  by  touch  of  art  divine  !  Must  we 
not  go  back  to  this  adornment  again,  since  it  arose 
from  the  demand  of  the  soul,  and  the  soul  demands 
it  still  ?  What  were  colors  made  for,  if  not  to  use  for 
the  worship  of  God,  and  the  culture  of  the  spirit? 
Are  we  more  devout  for  bare  walls  ?  Are  we  less 
spiritually -minded  when  the  plain  plaster  gives  place 
to  rainbow-winged  angels,  holding  dulcimer,  cithern, 
and  harp,  praising  God — their  faces  refulgent  with 
His  light  ?  We  need  more  Era  Angelicos  to  open 
the  doors  of  Paradise  for  us,  and  to  crowd  blank 
space  with  seraphim  and  cherubim  —  also  Ghir- 
landaios  and  Michel  Angelos  to  reveal  the  sublime 
brows  and  forms  of  Prophets,  Sibyls,  Saints,  and 
Martyrs  whenever  we  lift  up  our  eyes.  It  is,  to  be 
sure,  a  serious  obstacle  to  the  satisfying  of  such 
needs  that  we  now  have  no  devout  masters  in  the 


FLORENUE.  417 

world.  I  try  to  fancy  a  function  going  on  in  this 
cliapel.  A  hnndred  Avaxen-tapers  kindle  into  flam- 
ing magnificenc(3  tliese  amber  implements.  The 
carved  figures  are  diaphanous,  as  if  they  had  put 
on  celestial  bodies,  which  offer  no  obstruction  to  the 
blazing  light,  but  rather  seem  to  organize  it.  Wings 
sparkle  and  flow  and  wave  with  arrested,  golden  cur- 
rents. Every  vase  seems  filled  with  the  wine  of  life 
in  its  own  substance.  The  pyxes  look  as  if  the 
mysterious  Host  they  had  held  had  transfused  itself 
into  a  visible  Sun  of  Righteousness,  shining  through 
the  amber  ; — the  Christ  on  the  crucifixes  has  changed 
into  glory,  and  even  transfigured  the  cross.  The 
priests  who  are  administering  here,  robed  in  creamy 
cloth  of  gold,  add  a  living  splendor  as  they  move ; 
and,  turning  from  the  radiance  of  the  altar  and  its 
ministers,  behold  the  heavenly  hierarchies,  beaming 
through  the  walls  on  every  side,  with  love,  jo}^,  and 
immutable  peace,  bringing  blessings  for  sincere 
worshippers,  and  remaining  fixed  assurances  of 
never-failing  help  in  time  of  ttouble.  But  how  in- 
explicable it  is  that,  with  all  tliese  appliances,  even 
the  very  priests  themselves  could  continue  as  stolid 
as  stones,  and  receive  not  a  single  divine  idea  or  im- 
pulse from  all  that  art  could  fashion  and  the  mind 
conceive.  I  must  not  omit  the  music  from  my  func- 
tion— the  organ-thunders,  and  human  voices,  rising 
and  falling  in  tuneful  adoration  with  tones  that  seem 
to  cause  the  pictured  faces  to  flash  with  rapture — 
and  the  wings  of  angels  to  plume   themselves  for 

18* 


418  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

flight.  The  Medici  were  present  at  sucli  services  in 
this  chapel  of  theirs ;  but  beauty  of  soul  and  person 
was  not  the  result  to  them. 

The  custode,  at  my  request,  now  tooh  ns  into  a 
small  room  to  show  us  Bianca  Capella,  a  very  rotund 
and  jolly  dame — not  at  all  distinguished  in  aspect. 
FraDcesco  di  Medici  was  her  pendant,  and  between 
them  stood  Cosmo  II.,  in  marble.  The  Empress 
Helena  was  also  there,  and  a  fair  little  Carolina  di 
Medici,  sweet  and  innocent,  with  pale,  gold  hair  and 
clear,  azure  eyes.  It  v/as  a  relief  to  see  one  inno- 
cent looking  di  Medici.  From  this  we  were  led  into 
a  narrow  corridor,  and  looked  down  into  the  grand 
saloon,  built  for  the  consiglio  iDopulare.  It  was  full 
of  workmen  and  in  confusion  ;  but  we  could  perceive 
its  stateliness.  The  walls  are  covered  with  freseoe^r 
of  the  victories  of  Cosmo  I., — conquests  of  Pisa 
and  Siena,  by  Yasari — besides  others  by  Cigoli,  etc. 
Round  the  vast  hall,  upon  the  floor,  are  marble 
statues  and  groups,  by  famous  artists,  and  one  by 
Michel  Angelo,  left  unfinished.  This  is  Victory  and 
Captivity.  The  face  of  Yictorj^  is  as  clear  and  calm 
and  powerful  as  ideal  Victory  ought  to  be.  It  looks 
like  Day  without  a  cloud.  There  is  no  expression 
of  humanity  in  it — I  mean,  of  a  man.  It  is  a  Prince- 
dom. The  attitude  is  almost  indescribable.  The 
figure  fronts  toward  the  right ;  but  the  head  is  turned, 
looking  over  the  shoulder,  so  that  it  faced  me  as  I 
stood  before  it.  Beneath  the  hands  and  feet 
crouches  Captivity,  an  old  man,  half  bowed  on  hig 


FLOEENGE.  419 

knees,  with  a  noble  contour,  only  partly  made  out. 
Michel  Ano-elo  struG-o-led  with  the  marble  till  the 
idea  was  evident,  and  then  left  it,  like  so  many 
other  of  his  half-evolved  blocks.  The  limbs  of  Cap- 
tivity have  not  fought  their  way  out  of  the  stone  yet 
— they  are  captive  to  it — though  one  can  discern 
indications,  as  if  through  an  almost  transparent 
medium.  Mr.  H.  thought  the  figure  of  Victory  too 
tall,  and  the  head  too  small  in  proportion.  Perhaps 
it  is,  and  perhaps  Michel  Angelo  left  it  because  he 
was  not  content  with  it.  Yet,  in  that  case,  I  think 
he  would  have  given  it  one  of  his  Cyclopean  blows 
and  demolished  the  whole.  The  expression  is  so 
fine,  that  I  did  not  mind  the  discrepancies,  if  there 
be  any. 

I  saw  one  day  in  the  cortile  of  the  Academy  of 
Arts  another  ahozzo  of  the  great  artist.  It  is  St. 
Matthew.  One  can  see  the  colossal  form,  sitting 
with  a  book;  and  yet  one  cannot  tell  how  anything 
is  seen  (except  one  limb),  for  nothing  is  distinctly 
rendered.  But  somehow  the  design,  shaped  in  the 
brain  of  the  sculptor,  has  passed  into  the  stone — no 
— rather,  in  the  stone,  Michel  Angelo  saw  St.  Mat- 
thew sitting  with  his  Evangel,  and  took  up  his 
hammer  and  chisel  to  hew  him  out.  He  struck 
away  the  marble  till  he  obtained  access  to  him,  and 
then,  being  assured  he  was  there,  he  left  him  very 
safe  till  he  should  be  in  the  mood  to  release  him 
entirely.  But  he  will  never  be  released  now,  for 
now  there  is  no  angel  Michel  to  smite  off  his  chains. 


430  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

I  should  have  said  that  after  taldng  a  view  of  the 
saloon  from  above,  the  custode  took  us  doAvn  into  it, 
and  that  it  was  then  I  saw  the  sculpture.  There 
was  also  a  fine  heroic  statue  of  Pietro  di  Medici,  as 
handsome  as  Achilles  or  Mars,  and  in  the  costume 
of  a  Greek  warrior.  But  history  says  that  Pietro 
(or  Piero)  di  Medici  was  not  distinguished  for  in- 
tellect or  character ;  yet  if  this  be  a  true  portrait,  he 
must  have  been  famous  for  his  beauty,  at  least — and 
is  not  he  the  father  of  the  superb  Lorenzo  in  the 
Capella  dei  Depositi?  Who  was  his  mother — the 
mother  of  Pietro— I  wonder;  for  not  from  the  di 
Medici  could  such  beauty  come. 

Clement  YIL,  whoplaj^ed  so  like  a  cat  with  Henry 
YIII.  of  England,  sits  in  marble,  with  a  King  kneel- 
ing before  him — and  there  is  a  grand  statue  of  Leo 
X.,  resembling  Eiaphael's  portrait  of  him  in  the 
Pitti.  But  the  marble  transfigures  his  earthliness 
somewhat. 

The  ceiling  of  the  Hall  is  divided  into  compart- 
ments, richly  carved  and  heavily  gilded  ;  and  in 
these  compartments  are  finished  oil-paintings,  ex- 
tending over  a  hundred  and  seventy  feet  by  seventy- 
five  6f  space  !  The  colors  are  deep  and  bright,  and 
the  effect  is  sumptuous.  The  Plorentines  are  very 
proud  of  this  saloon,  and  believe  it  the  largest  in  the 
world.  The  doors  are  hung  with  solid  crimson  satin, 
fringed  with  gold,  and  when  the  rubbish  is  cleared 
away  and  the  workmen  gone,  I  think  Florence  maj 
well  be  proud  of  it. 


FLORENCE.  431 

When  we  left  the  Palazzo,  we  saw  tiie  Lion,  ai 
the  end  of  tlie  broad  terrace,  which  the  Pisans  were 
forced  to  kiss,  after  their  defeat ;  and  Michel  Kwge- 
lo's  David,  which  I  do  not  like,  probably  because  I 
do  not  yet  understand  it— ;-and  Hercules  and  Cacus 
and  two  inexplicable  figures.  And  we  crossed  to 
the  Loggia  of  the  Lancers,  by  Orgagna,  and  looked 
at  the  Perseus  more  carefullj^  than  I  have  done 
before.  It  is  one  of  those  faces  in  which  deepest 
thought  is  expressed,  earnest,  sad  thought,  and 
heroic  beauty.  There  is  not  much  taper  to  the 
limbs,  but  immense  strength  in  the  arms.  I  hope 
Benvenuto  Cellini  will  not  destroy  me,  in  enraged 
self-complacence,  if  I  say  that  I  wish  they  were 
slenderer,  to  harmonize  with  the  intellectual  fineness 
of  the  face.  The  irises  of  the  ej-es  are  cut  out — 
incised — which  gives  them  a  dark,  intent  look,  which 
I  do  not  altogether  like  for  sculpture.  The  winged 
helmet  is  falling  from  his  clustering  hair ;  for  he 
need  not  be  invisible  qjij  longer,  now  that  the  deed 
is  done.  He  holds  out  the  terrible  head  dreamily, 
almost  unconsciously,  as  lost  in  thought.  Canova's 
Perseus  is  only  a  vain  toy  compared  to  this  noble 
creation.  Canova  was  external,  I  think.  He  cut 
the  outside  of  the  marble  nicely,  and  never  wrestled 
after  a  profound  idea,  hidden  in  it.  It  is  all  verj- 
neat,  but  who  cares? 

It  was  exceedingly  interesting  to  see  the  statu- 
ettes, placed  round  the  pedestal  of  the  Perseus,  re- 
ferring to  the  myth.     For  the  Grand  Duchess  liked 


423  ~      NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

tliem  so  much,  she  wished  to  have  them  in  her 
boudoir,  and  Benvenuto  was  so  determined  she 
should  not,  that  he  placed  them  in  their  proper 
niches,  in  the  night,  while  the  Duchess  was  asleep. 
The  account  he  gives  in  his  autobiograph}^  of  the 
casting  of  the  statue  is  very  characteristic.  After 
loitering  about  the  most  beautiful  of  all  Loggie  for 
a  long  time,  we  went  into. the  Gallery  of  the  Uffizzi, 
and  sat  down  in  the  first  vestibule,  to  contemplate  the 
Medici.  I  must  confess  that  Ferdinand  III.  has 
quite  a  grand  head,  wherever  he  got  it.  Cosmo  III. 
is  as  repulsive  and  ugly  as  Philip  II.  of  Spain. 
Cosmo  II.  looks  like  a  negro,  with  frightful,  thick, 
prominent  lips  ;  and,  indeed,  they  are  a  fearful  set 
of  men.  Oh,  beautiful  Florence  !  how  insane  must 
have  been  your  conduct,  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
such  keepers  I       *****         * 

We  passed  on  to  the  Tribune,  for  I  wished  to  see 
Michel  Angelo's  Holy  Family,  after  reading  Mr. 
Ware's  excessive  eulogium  of  the  Madonna."  Mr. 
Ware  has  gone  mad  on  that  Madonna,  I  believe, 
for  I  am  sure  she  is  not  what  he  describes  her  to 
be.  With  all  my  faith  in  and  enthusiasm  for  the 
artist,  I  cannot  see  in  it  what  he  rages  about.  The 
mother  is  looking  up  into  the  infant's  face,  and  not 
^  into  the  hea-vens  in  a  prayer  or  dream  or  musing. 
To  me  she  is  not  noble  nor  particularly  full  of  ex- 
pression. The  infant  is  grand  and  Joseph  is  benign 
— only  the  Madonna  disappoints  me. 

We  did  not  stay  long  in  the  entrancing  Tribune, 


FLORENCE.  423 

because  to-day  I  wislied  to  see  the  pencil  and  pen 
and  ink  drawings  of  the  great  masters.  As  we 
came  out  of  the  southern  gallery,  however,  we 
found  the  door  of  the  cabinet  of  gems  open,  and 
were  drawn  in.  There  we  saw  splendors  upon 
splendors  of  precious  jewels  and  stones.  A  toad, 
made  of  one  priceless,  great  pearl,  with  two  jewels 
in  his  head,  was  certainly  a  toad  in  glory.  There 
was  a  face  of  oriental  jade,  with  dazzling  diamonds 
for  eyes ;  and  a  negro's  head  of  paragon  (a  black 
precious  stone),  with  an  immense  pearl  for  head- 
dress, and  a  tunic  of  one  entire  pearl,  bordered 
with  rubies  !  I  think  he  was  probably  the  ancestor 
of  the  negro-lipped  Medici.  There  were  innumer- 
able vases  of  every  form,  size,  and  precious  material 
— columns  of  crystal,  with  bands  of  diamonds,  eme- 
ralds, and  rubies  round  their  capitals ;  but  I  cannot 
tell  all  that  there  was.  The  little  cabinet  was  a  gem 
of  itself,  surrounded  by  columns  of  verde  antique, 
and  paved  with  marbles. 

So  now  we  were  too  late  for  the  dra\\iug3  to-day, 
and  too  tired  also,  and  therefore  we  strolled  into  the 
portrait  gallery,  where  I  sketched  the  beautiful  Ea- 
phael,  and  became  better  acquainted  with  Leonardo 
da  Yinci  and  Titian.  Titian  is  handsome,  but  I 
neither  love  nor  reverence  him,  for  some  reason  best 
known  to  himself.  In  the  hall  of  Bacchus,  we  looked 
at  the  authentic  Plato,  as  it  is  said  to  be,  a  most 
noble,  intellectual  brow,  and  fine  features,  except 
that  the  mouth  is  not  firm  and  strono-.     Can  this  be 


424  N0TS8  m  ITALY. 

true  of  tlie  divine  Plato  ?  As  lie  shares  with  Lord 
Bacon  tlie  highest  human  intellect,  I  am  sure  he 
mnst  be  strong  ;  but  it  may  be  that  this  is  a  bust 
of  him  when  his  mouth  had  lost  its  precision  of  line 
from  age.  As  I  believe  Lord  Bacon  and  Shakspeare 
to  be  one  and  the  same  person — or  rather,  as  I  be- 
lieve Lord  Bacon  wrote  what  are  called  Shakspeare's 
plays  and  sonnets,  this  will  account  for  my  leaving 
him  out  of  that  lofty  companionship.  Now,  no  more. 
What  a  day  this  has  been  !  Oh,  yes— a  little  more. 
When  we  came  do\\'n  into  the  Court,  we  saw  the 
statue  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  very  handsome,  a  noble 
figure,  holding  lovingly  on  his  arm  his  bronze  Per- 
seus. However  profoundly  one  may  admire  and  ap- 
preciate Benvenuto,  I  think  he  goes  beyond  any  one 
in  admiration  of  himself ;  yet  in  such  a  simple,  gen- 
uine way,  that  it  is  not  offensive,  but  rather  winsome 
than  otherwise.  I  cannot  thank  him  enough  for  his 
entertaining  autobiography,  though  it  be  somewhat 
mendacious.  His  mendacity  is  a  mixture  of  fun  and 
vanity ;  but  who  ever  had  such  cunning  fingers  ?  I 
do  not  wonder  that  the  Prince  loved  to  watch  him 
at  work.  It  must  have  been  like  a  glimpse  into  fairy 
land,  when  he  was  upon  his  bijouterie.  I  should  be 
glad  to'know  whether  his  hands  were  delicate  and 
taper.     And,  now  again,  no  more — to-night. 


July  2d. — The  Brownings  went  to  France  yester- 
day morning,  and  there  seems  to  be  nobody  in 
Florence  now  for  us. 


FLORENCE.  425 

We  have  been  to  the  Duomo  to-clay.  It  was  in 
nice  order,  and  the  ugly  chairs  removed,  and  we 
could  see  the  beauty  of  the  pavement,  as  not  before. 
We  walked  all  round  the  chapels,  and  upon  one, 
dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  was  an  image  of  her,  with 
a  necklace  of  large  diamonds ;  and  she  stands 
upon  a  crescent  moon,  five  or  six  inches  in  its 
curve,  made  entirely  of  diamonds.  As  the  altar 
was  blazing  with  lighted  candles,  the  effect  was  daz- 
zling, 

1  had  a  better  view  of  Michel  Angelo's  Pieta,  and 
the  face  and  head  of  Christ  are  beautiful.  Mary  is 
older  than  she  is  represented  in  the  Pieta  at  St. 
Peter's,  but  very  grand — as  is  the  whole  group. 
John  and  Mary  Magdalen  help  support  the  body  of 
Jesus.  It  is  lamentable  that  snch  a  work  should  be 
in  so  dark  a  place,  where  it  is  nearly  impossible  ever 
to'  see  it  all,  except  the  outline.  The  windows  were 
superb  to-day  on  the  eastern  side,  with  the  sun 
shining  through.  The  Cathedral  is  impressive  and 
noble  ;  but  very  small  in  comparison  to  St.  Peter's, 
and  it  somehow  reveals  the  immensity  of  St.  Peter's, 
which  never  was  large  enough  to  meet  my  expecta- 
tions, when  I  was  in  it.  It  is  strange  that  the  Flor- 
entines do  not  fill  the  Duomo  with  superior  works  of 
art ;  but  it  is  far  better  to  have  none  than  the  pic- 
tures and  statues  of  medium  merit  that  usually  are 
found  in  churches. 

Afterward  we  long  contem^^lated  the  Gate  of 
Gates  of    the  Baptisterj'-,   and  then  endeavored  to 


426  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

find  the  Yia  Faenza,  and  the  buildmg  in  which  is 
the  Cenacolo  of  Raphael.  After  some  straying,  we 
found  it,  and  then  Mr.  H.  left  me ;  for  he  said  he 
could  not  look  at  a  fresco  to-daj.  A  deplorable  old 
beggar  rang  the  bell  for  me,  for  the  sake  of  a 
crazia,  and  a  civil,  respectable  man  opened  the  door, 
and  ushered  me  into  a  room,  one  end  of  which  is 
filled  with  the  picture  I  wished  to  see.  It  has  evi- 
dently been  cleaned,  and  tha.t  dangerous  process 
would  take  away  the  delicate  finish  and  tints  and 
atmosphere  of  a  work  of  Raphael ;  but  it  is  a  grand, 
impressive,  affecting  design.  John's  head  is  exceed- 
ingly beautiful.  He  is  represented  asleep  or  faint, 
as  he  often  is  at  the  supper — I  do  not  know  whj', 
unless  it  were  impossible  to  portraj^  his  grief  and 
amazement  at  the  words,  "  one  of  3^ou  shall  betray 
me."  There  is  lovely  repose  in  the  perfect  features 
and  attitude.  His  head  rests  on  his  arm  before 
Christ,  who,  with  upraised  hand,  looks  directly  and 
cleprecatingly,  but  with  gentle  majesty,  at  Judas, 
who  is  alone  on  this  side  the  table,  and  stares  out  of 
the  picture,  with  an  uneasy  and  sinister  glance, 
grasping  the  bag  in  his  left  hand.  St.  James  is, 
like  John,  very  young  and  beautiful,  with  a  clear,  open 
,  brow,  and  an  expression  of  calm  surprise,  as  if  he 
could  not  readily  conceive  of  such  a  crime.  The  older 
apostles  are  noble,  some  of  them  v/ith  a  most  tender 
sorrow,  and  all  astonished,  holding  their  knives  and 
bread  and  cups  suspended  at  the  fearful  words. 
Thaddeus  is  also  represented  as  youthful.     I  v,'as 


FLORENCE.  421 

quite  alone  in  tlie  building.     Not  a  sound  broke  the 
profound  silence. 

The  arched,  vaulted  room  was  the  old  Eefectory 
of  the  Convent  of  San  Onofno,  now  repaired. 
Antique  red-cushioned  chairs  were  ranged  round 
three  sides ;  and  beneath  the  picture,  on  the  fourth 
side,  was  a  carved  settle.  Sitting  there  so  still,  I 
seemed  to  be  present  at  the  very  moment  when  Jesus 
pronounced  the  sentence  that  struck  such  amaze- 
ment and  dismay  into  the  hearts  of  his  disciples,  and 
they  all  became  living  persons  to  me.  The  fresco 
was  very  splendid  in  color  once,  with  a  great  deal 
of  gold.  The  dishes  on  the  table  are  of  elegant 
form,  like  Greek  paterae  ;  but  the  whole  effect  is 
simple,  and  centres  upon  Christ  and  Judas.  Just  as 
Perugino's  Pieta  at  the  Academy  made  me  more 
truly  feel  than  ever  before  that  Christ  was  crucified 
for  man,  so  this  assured  me  of  that  most  affecting 
last  supper  on  earth  of  Jesus  and  his  friends.  So 
powerful  is  the  purpose  and  sentiment  of  the  great 
masters,  that  we  become  possessed  of  the  same.  I 
often  go  round  the  chapels  of  the  churches,  and 
look  at  the  altar-pictures,  and  see  and  feel  nothing, 
.  as  they  usually  are.  But  suddenly  I  am  arrested, 
and  always  by  the  devout,  religious,  and  inspired 
painters  of  the  olden  time,  of  whom  Eaphael  was 
the  consummate  flower. 

Above,  and  far  beyond  the  group  at  table,  through 
arches,  we  see  a  landscape,  with  the  trees  and  rocks 
and  hills  that  drive  Euskin  mad ;  but  I  think  they 


428  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

are  always  in  keeping  with  the  figures  in  Eaphaelite 
and  pre-Raphaehte  pictures,  and  I  like  them.  They 
give  distance  and  scope,  without  overwhelming  the 
main  design,  and  therefore  have  an  artistic  pro- 
priety. 

The  Egyptian  Museum  is  in  the  same  building, 
and  I  wished  to  see  a  war-chariot  that  was  there. 
There  were  mummies,  in  and  out  of  mummy-cases, 
innumerable  carved  objects  in  precious  stones,  frogs 
as  big  only  as  a  pea,  and  large  and  small  scaribsei 
of  various  substances — gods,  altars,  shrines,  bas- 
reliefs,  stele  drawings  on  stucco,  and  one  curious 
portrait  of  a  handsome,  unamiable  lady,  with  hair 
ch'essed  in  the  fashion  of  to-day.  It  has  taken  three 
or  more  thousand  years  for  this  style  to  come  round 
again.  In  what  a  large  orbit  moves  Fashion  !  The 
war-chariot  is  made  of  wood — a  very  light  kind  of 
wood,  with  as  little  framework  and  weight  as  pos- 
sible. The  seat  (or  stand,  rather)  is  woven  of  reeds 
and  straw.  It  must  have  flown  like  the  wind,  with 
fleet  horses.  Two  very  large,  airy  wheels  were  on 
each  side ;  and  it  was  a  Scythian  chariot,  after  all, 
and  I  believe  I  expected  to  see  an  Egyptian  one. 
But  if  the  chariots  of  Pharaoh  were  like  this,  they 
certainly  could  not  withstand  the  waves.  Why 
should  our  carriages  be  so  ponderous?  It  is,  at 
least,  a  pity  to  load  our  horses  with  such  unneces- 
sary weight.  Remote  antiquity  might  teach  us  a 
great  deal,  though  Ave  brag  so  perpetually  of  our 
improvements.     I  laid    ray  hand   upon  the  woven 


FLOBENCE.  429 

stand,  wondering  wliose  brave  feet  had  held  their 
place  upon  it  in  the  thick  of  battle,  three,  or  perhaps 
four,  thousand  years  ago.  Just  now  I  had  been  in 
the  Holy  Land,  and  now  I  was  in  Egypt ;  for  in 
Egypt  this  chariot  was  found. 

When  I  was  about  leaving  the  building,  I  offered 
the  custode  a  fee,  but,  with  a  polite  bow,  he  pro- 
tested that  I  was  "  senza  obligazione,"  and  I  was 
really  obliged  to  put  my  silver  back  into  my  purse, 
with  speechless  surprise.  It  is  the  first  time  in 
Europe  that  I  have  known  a  custode  to  refuse  the 
money  dropping  into  his  hand,  though  attendants 
do  not  always  demand  it. 

On  my  way  home  I  stopped  at  the  Baptistery,  and 
looked  at  Ghiberti's  other  door,  which  is  also  beau- 
tiful, and  represents  the  Life  of  Christ.  There  is 
perfect  grace,  and  delicate,  forcible  expression  in 
the  faces  and  forms ;  and  I  think  it  would  be  con- 
sidered a  masterpiece,  if  the  eastern  gate  were  not 
so  peerless.  The  third  one  is  the  Life  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist,  by  Pisano.  Inside,  I  looked  at  a  wooden 
statue  of  Mary  Magdalen,  meagre,  forlorn,  and  sad, 
with  abundant  hair  enveloping  her  nude  and  wasted 
figure.  I  had  come  in,  because,  while  gazing  at 
Pisano's  door,  I  felt  a  great  drop  of  water  fall  on  my 
nose,  and  instantl}^  down  poured  a  flood,  and  the 
thunder  rolled  ;  so  I  fled  into  the  sanctuary,  and  sat 
down.  I  could  have  stayed  there  contentedly  for  a 
long  time,  but  I  had  not  my  watch,  and  was  afraid 
I  should  be  too  late  for  dinner :  so  I  summoned  a 


430  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

carriage  and  drove  home.  For  more  tlian  two  liours 
it  continued  to  rain,  thunder,  and  hghten ;  then  it 
cleared  lustrously,  and  E.  and  I  walked  out  of 
the  Porta  Eomana  up  the  spacious  avenue  of  the 
Grand  Duke's  villa,  about  a  mile  long,  close  by  the 
city.  It  is  a  broad  carriage-road,  with  nice  foot- 
walks  beneath  the  shade-trees  on  each  side,  open 
and  free  to  all,  in  true  Tuscan  princel}-  style.  *  ^^  * 
At  the  gate  of  the  Villa  were  two  marble  statues — ■ 
one,  Jupiter  hurling  thunderbolts  with  the  utmost 
furor, — a  strange  figure  to  place  at  the  entrance  of 
the  ducal  residence,  though  significant  and  appro- 
priate, considering  how  the  Florentine  rulers  behave. 
The  other  is  Atlas,  I  suppose,  with  the  heavens  on 
his  shoulders.  A  lovely  lawn  is  witliin,  surrounded 
with  rose-trees  still  in  bloom,  though  it  be  now  late 
for  roses :  and  beyond  stretches  out  the  palace, — 
marble  statues  standing  in  niches  in  front.  Even 
into  this  strangers  are  admitted ;  but  it  was  too  late 
then  for  us.  The  view  is  extensive  and  rich  from 
the  end  of  the  avenue,  which  gently,  yet  constantly, 
ascends  all  the  way  from  the  first  gate. 


Santa  Maria  Novella. 

July  3d. — This  morning  we  set  forth  for  Santa 
Maria  Novella,  Michel  Angelo's  Bride.  It  was  the 
church  where  Boccaccio's  ladies  met  at  the  time  of 
the   plague,   and  agreed   to  go   away  together.     I 


FLORENCE.  431 

wished  particularly  to  see  tlie  famouiS  Maclomia  of 
Cimabue,  wliicli  was  so  superior  to  previous  paint- 
ino-s  of  her,  that  it  ^vas  borne  through  the  streets  in 
triumphal  procession,  before  being  deposited  in  its. 
present  chapel.  The  facade  of  this  church,  one  of 
the  few  that  is  finished,  is  encrusted  with  ]>lack 
and  white  marbles  in  mosaic.  On  the  right  ex^ 
tends  an  arcade,  and  in  each  arch  is  a  tomb,  ^^'ith 
the  escutcheon  of  the  person  buried  sculptured 
or  modelled  in  stucco  above.  At  right  angles,  on 
the  left,  is  still  another  arcade,  and  on  this  side  we 
entered  a  cloister — the  green  cloister,  so  called  be- 
cause the  frescoes  Avhich  cover  the  walls  are  green 
and  brown  in  tint — a  sort  of  chiar'oscuro.  The}' 
are  curious  pictures  of  events  in  the  Old  Testament, 
by  Uccello  and  Dello,  with  a  good  deal  of  force  and 
the  utmost  naivete.  Beneath  these  designs  are  in- 
numerable sepulchral  tablets.  We  walked  along  till 
we  came  to  an  open  door,  which  we  entered,  and 
found  services  going  on  in  a  large,  lofty  room,  cov- 
ered with  frescoes  by  Taddeo  Gaddi  and  Simone 
Memmi.  It  was  the  Chapter-house.  On  the  east 
side  is  the  triumph  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas.  He  sits 
in  the  centre,  holding  an  open  book,  vfhich  he  turns 
to  the  beholders  to  read,  xit  his  feet  crouch  three 
promoters  of  heresy.  On  each  hand,  in  a  regular 
line,  sit  saints,  apostles,  virtues,  and  angels.  In  two 
even  rows  beneath  are  fourteen  figures — popes,  phi- 
losophers, saints,  orators,  and  personified  abstrac- 
tions, in  rows ;  many  beautiful  noble  faces  and  forms. 


433  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Tills  was  by  Gacldi,  and  all  the  others  are  by  Memmi, 
Opposite  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  is  a  yast  composition 
called  the  Church  Militant  and  Triumphant,  contain- 
ing a  great  many  portraits — of  Oimabue,  di  Lapo, 
Petrarch  aud  Laura,  and  Boccaccio,  "  as  well  as 
Popes  and  Kings.  On  the  north  side  is  the  Cruci- 
fisioii,  Christ  bearing  the  Cross,  and  his  Descent 
into  Hell.  The  famous  Walter  di  Brieune  is  the 
E/Oman  centurion.  Opposite  are  scenes  from  St. 
Domenic's  life,  as  this  is  a  Domenican  church,  ^vith 
a  convent  attached.  There  are  windows,  beautiful 
mullioned  windows,  and  a  great  door,  which  would 
effectually  light  the  frescoes,  but  they  were  pro- 
vokingly  covered  with  dark  curtains,  so  that  it  was 
difficult  to  see  them  well.  Glorious  with  color  and 
form  must  have  been  those  walls  in  their  first  ages  ; 
for  they  are  now  more  than  five  hundred  years  old. 
The  groined  roof  meets  in  a  poiut  above,  with  four 
separate  subjects  in  each  compartment.  From  the 
Chapter-house  we  returned  to  the  Green  Cloisters, 
and  were  going  down  a  corridor  that  seemed  full  of 
paintings  and  tombs  and  sculptures,  when  a  custode 
accosted  us,  and  asked  if  we  wished  to  see  the 
Church.  We  followed  him  with  his  key,  and  he  led 
us  directly  to  the  sacristy,  a  lofty,  Gothic  apartment, 
with  the  groinings  of  the  roof  richly  ornamented  ;  a 
superb  window  of  stained  glass,  and  mahogany 
presses  all  round,  as  well  as  one  in  the  ceutre  of  the 
room.  An  artist  was  painting,  and  the  custode  in- 
troduced us  to  the  originals  of  his  copies.     They 


FLORENCE.  433 

were  tliree  reliquaries  by  Fra  Angelico,  little  Gothic 
frames,  witli  pictures  iu  the  centres,  at  the  foot  and 
tops  and  sides  ;  and  between  the  central  pictures  and 
the  outside  were  shut  recesses,  containing  labelled 
relics.  I  saw  small  bones,  hair,  and  undistinguish- 
able  bits,  but  I  do  not  know  their  histories.  Here  I 
found  the  Madonna  of  the  Star,  a  celebrated  work 
of  Fra  Angelico — Marj^,  standing,  in  a  blue  robe, 
holding  the  infant,  with  a  star  blazing  over  her  brow. 
All  the  faces  were  finished  like  miniatures,  and  the 
drapery  was  brilliant  with  primal  colors,  making  car- 
canets  of  jewels,  as  Fra  ilngelico  always  does ;  and 
his  rubj'  and  sapphire  robes  and  opaline  faces  were 
set  on  a  gold  background. 

After  carefully  examining  these  wonderful  gems, 
w^e  went  into  the  church,  a  dilapidated  old  place, 
shorn  of  much  glorj',  but  wdth  a  sumptuous  window 
of  painted  glass — a  rose-window  over  the  principal 
entrance,  and  a  triple  muUioned  one  over  the  choir. 
A  short  flight  of  stairs  leads  into  the  Strozzi  Chapel, 
covered  all  over  with  frescoes,  by  Orgagna.  On  one 
side  is  Heaven,  and  on  the  other  is  Hell.  The  last 
has  been  injured  and  mended ;  but  Heaven  is  still 
glorious.  The  Almighty  is  enthroned  highest,  Jesus 
and  the  Virgin  Mary  are  in  the  nest  rank,  just  be- 
neath two  beautiful  angels  ;  and  around  and  below 
countless  throngs  of  the  ascended  Just,  their  faces 
glowing  and  beaming  with  happiness  and  peace — 
thousands  upon  thousands.  What  a  work  for  one 
head  and  one  hand !  but  what  enjoyment  Orgagna 

19 


434  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

must  have  experienced  in  lifting  up  those  myriad  holj 
brows  and  ecstatic  eyes  to  the  smile  of  the  Eternal 
Father,  and  the  welcome  of  Christ  and  the  Virgin ! 

Opposite  is  the  Prince  of  Evil — no  princely  state 
has  he,  however ;  but  he  is  a  hideous  monster,  up  to 
his  middle  in  a  caldron,  in  which  the  damned  are 
boiling,  and  he  eating  them,  as  they  are  cooked  to 
his  taste.  This  is  the  central  group.  Around  are 
separate  punishments  for  each  sin,  which  would  not 
be  pleasant  to  describe.  Behind  the  altar  is  the 
Last  Judgment,  surmounted  by  a  painted  window. 
In  the  Judgment  the  artist  has  amused  himself  with 
putting  many  lordly  personages  who  did  not  please 
him,  among  the  cursed  ;  and,  out  of  a  sepulchre,  a 
grinning  fiend  is  pulling  a  poor  soul,  to  torment  it  in 
unseeml}'  haste,  not  even  waiting  for  it  to  come  forth. 
Doubtless  this  soul  is  a  portrait;  for  painters,  as 
well  as  poets,  put  their  enemies,  or  those  whom  they 
believed  wicked,  into  the  Inferno  without  scruple. 
On  the  other  side  is  also  a  sepulchre,  and  from  that 
a  lovely  angel  is  gently  assisting  one  of  the  "Blessed 
of  my  Father"  to  ascend.  Wonderful  is  the  contrast 
between  these  opposing  groups. 

The  choir  is  the  work  of  Ghirlandaio  (Domenico). 
One  side  is  the  Life  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  and  the 
other  the  Life  of  the  Yirgin,  in  a  great  many  com- 
partments. Various  portraits  are  introduced — in 
one  group  are  several  of  the  di  Medici — in  another, 
artists,  and  among  them  Ghirlandaio  himself.  There 
is  the  portrait  also  of  a  great  beauty  of  that  time, 


FLORENCE.  435 

Giuevra  de  Benci.  These  frescoes  are  verj-  spl('.ndid. 
"Wliat  prodigies  of  genius  were  tlie  masters  of  those 
daj's — what  patience,  invention,  and  industry  !  Tlie 
group  of  women  round  the  new-born  Virgin  is  grace- 
ful and  lovely,  and  one  is  robed  in  cloth  of  gold. 
All  the  dresses  are  magnificent  Avitb  gold  and  color, 
and  I  perceive  how  splendid  must  have  been  this 
choir,  with  the  grace  and  state  and  dignity  of  the 
figures — the  true  faces  and  the  living  movement — 
lighted  with  prismatic  hues  from  the  large  triple 
Gotliic  window  of  painted  glass — before  the  gold 
was  dimmed  or  the  tints  faded ;  since,  even  now,  it 
is  so  much  more  than  I  can  apprehend  at  one  see- 
ing. Above,  in  four  pointed  arches  of  the  vault,  sit 
four  Evangelists,  presiding  over  their  pictured  gos- 
pels,— grand  old  men,  prefiguring  Michel  Angelo'a 
prophets  ;  for  Ghirlandaio  was  bis  master.  I  have 
not  seen  in  anything  of  Ghirlandaio,  however,  tbe 
tremendous  muscular  developments  which  Michel 
Angelo  delighted  to  render.  That  was  "his  own 
music,"  and  I  cannot  like  it  overmuch,  because  I  do 
not  understand  anatomy,  and  prefer  the  human 
form  rounded  witb  "  softer  solids." 

In  the  Gaddi  Chapel,  on  the  left,  is  the  storied 
Crucifix  of  Brunelleschi,  which  be  carved  in  wood, 
after  seeing  Donatello's,  in  Santa  Croce.  Brunel- 
leschi told  Donatello  that  be  had  cut  a  peasant  and 
not  a  Christ,  and  wben  he  had  finished  his  own, 
Donatello  was  so  astonished  that  he  exclaimed  with 
generous  admiration,  "  To  thee  it  is  granted  to  make 


436  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

tlie  Clirists,  and  to  me  the  peasants."  I  could  not 
see  tlie  face  distinctly  enough  on  account  of  the  dim 
shade  of  the  chapel ;  .but  all  I  could  see  of  the  figure 
was  fine  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  the  magnanimity  of  Do- 
natello  has  consecrated  it  At  last  we  visited  the 
Eucellai  Chapel,  where  the  celebrated  Cimabue 
Madonna  is  placed.  It  has  the  colossal  face  which 
Cimabue  and  his  compeers  so  often  drew,  on  a 
rather  less  colossal  figure,  while  the  infant  and  the 
angels  are  of  the  natural  size.  But  the  Yirgin's  face 
is  very  much  softer  and  more  beautiful  than  any 
other  of  Cimabue,  without  the  hard  outlines  of  that 
age — a  noble,  sweet,  and  tender  countenance,  slightly 
bent  on  a  throat  disproportionately  slender — with  a 
hood  almost  covering  the  forehead.  The  fingers  of 
the  hands  are  endless  and  inflexible  ;  but  the  baby 
they  hold  is  one  of  the  princely,  divine  infants,  full 
of  gi'ace  and  majesty,  and  the  sis  angels  around,  in 
their  gold  settings,  are  heavenly  jewels  of  rarest 
beauty.  In  its  first  freshness  of  dazzling  gold  and 
color,  it  must  have  cast  an  added  glory  upon  the  day 
as  it  passed  through  the  streets  of  Florence — the 
Holy  Child  blessing  all  men  with  His  uplifted  little 
hand,  and  the  Madonna  winning  the  worship  of  the 
thronging  crowds  by  her  queenly  state  and  benignity 
of  aspect.  The  angels  are  absorbed  in  the  beatific 
vision  of  the  Mother  and  Son.  This  picture  is  hung 
between  two  narrow  windows  in  an  unaccountably 
stupid  manner  ;  for  the  light,  glaring  into  the  eyes, 
prevents  one  from  seeing  well  any  part  of  it.     It  is 


FLORENCE.  437 

disloyal  to  Cimabue  to  hang  his  picture  ko,  besides 
being  exasperating  to  any  true  lover  of  art.  I  begin 
thoroughl}-  to  approve  of  the  custom  of  Princes  and 
Popes,  of  which  I  have  heretofore  complained — of 
taking  masterpieces  from  churches  and  placing 
them  in  galleries  ;  for  in  churches  they  are  often 
lost,  and  in  galleries  they  are  found.  As  Mr.  AlLston 
once  so  wisely  said,  "  What  is  the  use  of  a  picture  if 
we  cannot  see  it?" 

The  Martj'rdom  of  St.  Catharine  covers  the  right- 
hand  wall.  I  looked  at  it  Avith  great  interest,  be- 
cause some  figures  in  it  are  said  to  be  by  Michel 
Angelo.  St.  Catharine  stands,  raising  her  hands  to 
a  descending  angel,  who  seems  to  bring  down  the 
retribution  of  heaven  ;  for  the  executioners  are  fall- 
ing about  in  terror  or  faintness,  and  in  these  writhing 
forms  I  recognized  Michel  Angelo. 

Another  chapel  is  painted  by  Filippo  Lippi,  with 
traditional  miracles  on  the  sides,  and  the  evangelists 
on  the  ceiling.  St.  Philip  is  driving  away  a  horrible 
dragon  from  the  Temple  of  Mars  on  one  side ;  on 
the  other,  Drusiana  is  rising  from  the  dead.  These 
frescoes  were  black  and  dismal,  and  had  not  the  fi'ee 
grandeur  of  the  Orgagnas  and  Ghirlandaios ;  but 
yet  they  were  very  expressive. 

Over  the  door,  leading  to  the  campanile,  is  a 
Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  witli  glorified  saints,  by 
Buffalmacco,  each  head  set  in  its  solid  golden  plate 
• — such  sincerity  and  good  faith  in  every  line  and 
shadow  that  the  attraction  and  effect  are  irresistible. 


438  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  academies  and  rules  of  pro- 
portion were  nuisances,  because  tliey  so  often  take 
the  place  of  all  that  is  truly  valuable  in  a  picture. 
It  is  like  leaving  the  color  out  of  the  rose,  and  the 
perfume  out  of  the  violet — and,  indeed,  the  soul  out 
of  the  body.  The  inspiration  of  the  old  masters 
was  from  within,  a  sacred,  revered  Same ;  and  with 
it  they  painted  love  and  prayer  and  praise  and  sor- 
row with  inevitable  power,  however  strange  and  hard 
their  lines  and  shapes ;  and  finally  grace  and  beauty 
of  form  were  added  thereunto  more  and  more,  till 
Raphael,  Avith  his  radiant  finger,  put  the  seal  on  all 
endeavor.  Was  a.n}- thing  more  possible  ?  Can  any 
one  transcend  him  ? 

The  Gothic  nave  is  lofty  and  spacious,  and  along 
the  aisles  are  small  chapels  in  arches,  once  filled 
with  frescoes,  but  now  mostly  in  ruin.  A  ma.rble 
pulpit,  richly  carved  in  bas-relief,  is  built  against 
one  of  the  columns  of  the  nave,  and  over  the  great 
door,  beneath  the  rose-window,  is  a  crucifix  by 
Giotto.  The  most  entire  dismantling  is  of  the  high 
altar.  There  is  nothing  at  all  left  in  it  but  dust  and 
defacement,  and  the  church  looks  desolate  and  for- 
lorn, though  it  is  one  of  the  grandest  in  size  and 
proportion,  and  contains  so  many  treasures. 

In  the  green  cloister  was  a  man  sitting  in  a  stall 
selling  rosaries.  He  offered  me  "  The  Tears  of  St. 
Job,"  each  tear  crystallized  into  a  bead,  with  a  little 
cross,  and  I  bought  them  out  of  love  for  that  patient 
man,  and  in  memory  of  Santa  Maria  Novella. 


FLORENCE.  4o9 

Uffizzi  Galleey. 

We  tlien  wandered  to  the  Uffizzi.  I  looked  long 
at  the  Holy  Family  by  Michel  Angelo,  and  now  I 
am  convinced  that  Mr.  Ware  is  distraught  on  that 
point  of  the  Madonna.  It  is  painfully  uncomely, 
and  expresses  nothing  of  what  he  so  extravagantly 
descants.  It  is  a  Madonna  of  his  own  fancy  that  he 
writes  about. 

Luini's  beautiful  Herodias's  Daughter  is  very 
much  in  Leonardo  da  Yinci's  style.  When  shall  I 
have  seen  all  the  cliefs-d'ceuvre  of  the  Tribune,  I 
wonder  ? 

In  another  room  I  met  the  cold,  disagreeable, 
handsome  Alfieri,  whose  hard  blue  eyes  are  terrible 
from  lack  of  all  human  kindliness  of  sentiment. 
Bousseau  is  much  more  genial,  though  by  no  means 
attractive ;  and  Madame  de  Sevigne  is  lovely,  by 
Mignard.  So  we  went  on  till  we  came  to  Sasso 
Ferrato's  Madonna  of  the  blue  hood.  It  is  most 
tender  and  sweet,  yet  cannot  be  called  the  Adolorata. 
There  is  no  sword  in  her  heart,  but  only  a  pensive 
thought.  Her  exquisite  mouth  has  never  quivered 
with  unutterable  woe,  and  her  shaded  eyes  have  still 
the  capacity  to  weep— not  like  Perugino's  Mary's, 
drained  of  tears. 

We  were  so  fortunate  as  to  find  the  Hall  of  Bronzes 
open,  and  we  saw  at  last  John  of  Bologna's  original 
Merciuy.  It  certainly  is  the  Mercury  of  Mercurys. 
Such  an  airy  flight  was  never  before  or  since  repre- 


440  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

sented  iu  bronze,  marble,  or  whatever  substance. 
He  is  thrown  upon  the  air  completely,  and  is  airier 
for  the  bronze.  A  plaster  cast  carries  a  heaviness 
with  it,  besides  that  casts  do  not  often  give  a  true 
idea  of  the  original.  Sometimes  they  do.  Michel 
Angelo's  Lorenzo  di  Medici,  and  his  Day  and  Night, 
and  the  noble  Minerva  Medica  are  really  shadowed 
forth  by  the  Crystal  Palace  casts  :  but  they  are  the 
finest  in  the  world.  Ah,  this  Mercury !  He  is  a 
winged  Thought — fit  messenger  of  the  gods.  The 
little  Zephyr,  who  puffs  beneath  his  imponderable 
foot,  has  no  more  work  to  do  than  if  he  were  blow- 
ing a  bubble.  He  will  be  gone  quite  out  of  sight  in 
an  instant — so  exquisitely  poised,  with  pointed  finger, 
and  head  thrown  back,  and  form  turned,  like  a 
lovely,  slender,  voluted  shell. 

Beuvenuto  Cellini's  first  wax-model  of  Perseus  was 
beneath  a  glass  shade.  The  statue  is  far  better, 
and  the  model  is  only  a  statuette.  There  is  also  a 
bronze  model.  His  superb  helmet  and  shield,  made 
for  Francis  I.,  we  saw,  covered  all  over  with  the 
most  delicate  arabesques,  and  medallions  with  small 
figures, — the  helmet  surmounted  with  a  dragon 
chiselled  with  finest  finish,  in  all  its  scales  and  hor- 
rors. It  was  deeply  interesting,  too,  to  see  the 
bronze  bas-relief  which  Ghiberti  executed  for  a  spe- 
cimen of  his  capacity  to  make  the  gates  of  the  Bap- 
tistery. It  is  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham.  There  is 
also  an  exceedingly  beautiful  small  statue  of  David, 
by  Donatello.     He    has  killed    Goliath,  and  stands 


FLORENCE  411 

musiDg.  On  his  head  is  a  shepherd's  graceful  bon- 
net, with  a  rather  broad  bxnm,  and  a  wreath  round  the 
crown ;  and  he  lias  such  a  simple,  stripling  air,  so 
without  triumph  at  his  great  exploit — he  stands  so 
musically,  so  gently,  that  he  pronounces  himself  the 
sweet  Psalmist  of  Israel,  rather  than  the  conqueror 
of  a  giant.  There  is  force  in  his  delicacy,  but  it  is 
the  force  of  genius,  and  not  of  physique.  I  have 
seen  nothing  of  Donatello  that  captivated  me  entirely 
before. 

In  the  inner  hall  of  very  ancient  bronzes  are  rare 
Etruscan  treasures ;  and  among  them  a  Chimera  of 
great  antiquity,  still  perfect,  except  its  tail,  which  is 
modern  and  a  serpent.  The  principal  head  is  that 
of  a  lion ;  and  a  goat's  head  shoots  up  craite  un- 
seasonably from  behind  the  lion's. 

A  statue  of  a  youth  found  at  Pesaro  is  fine,  and 
curious,  from  the  puzzle  it  has  proved  to  be  to  the 
wise.  Ko  one  can  decide  whether  it  be  Bacchus, 
Apollo,  Mercury,  or  what.  It  is  now  called  "  The 
Idol."  A  robed  figure,  found  in  the  vale  of  the 
Sa-nguinetto,  on  the  shores  of  Thrasj^'mene,  has  all 
the  interest  attached  to  that  spot,  besides  being  an 
admirable  work.  I  saw  there  the  very  niellos  from 
which  the  art  of  engraving  originated,  and  they 
looked,  like  delicate  etchings  on  silver — slightly 
shaded  outlines.  In  the  same  case  were  two  enor- 
mous rings,  with  the  largest  rubies  that  I  thinli  were 
ever  put  in  rings.  They  ■  must  have  been  for  the 
thumb.     In  the  British  Regalia  there  is  one  as  large. 

19* 


•143  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

but  not  in  a  ring.  There  were  a  great  many  heads 
of  Roman  standards,  the  most  memorable  of  which 
was  the  eagle  of  the  twenty -fourth  legion.  We  had 
not  seen  half,  when  we  were  hurried  out,  because 
the  hour  for  shutting  the  gallery  had  arrived  un- 
awares. But  before  we  left  the  western  side,  we 
went  to  see  Michel  Angelo's  Bacchus  and  Faun. 

In  the  afternoon  we  visited  churches — first  San 
Spirito,  close  by  us.  The  interior  is  grand,  with  its 
rows  of  columns  and  lofty,  arched  aisles,  extending 
round  the  high  altar.  The  high  altar  and  choir  are 
contained  within  a  superb  balustrade  of  precious 
marbles  and  bronze,  surmounted  by  six  angels  in 
marble,  St.  John,  and  the  Madonna.  The  altar  is 
inlaid  with  pietre  dure,  in  flowers  and  birds  and  ara- 
besques, and  the  baldacchino  is  also  ornamented 
with  mosaics.  The  church  is  the  best  work  of 
Brunelleschi.  Entirely  round  the  aisles  are  chapels, 
and  many  good  pictures  in  them,  and  near  the  en- 
trance is  a  copy  of  Michel  Angelo's  Pieta  of  St. 
Peter's,  and  one  also  of  his  St.  John  of  Santa  Maria 
Sopra  Minerva.  I  became  acquainted  there  with  a 
new  old  painter,  Piero  di  Losimo — new  to  me,  of 
course,  I  mean ;  and  I  saw  a  Madonna  and  Saints, 
by  Filippo  Lippi — the  child  Jesus  reaching  down  to 
touch  a  cross  which  little  John  holds  in  his  hands — 
all  very  noble  and  lovely ;  also  a  Madonna  and  four 
Saints  by  Giotto,  the  saints  beautiful— the  whole 
picture  worthy  of  study.  An  Annunciation,  by 
Botticelli,  differs  from  all  the  paintings  of  his  I  have 


FLORENCE.  44;j 

known.  The  faces  of  tlie  angel  and  Mary  are  round 
and  soft,  instead  of  thin  and  meagre  and  liard,  and 
what  is  called  the  motive  of  the  picture  is,  as  usual, 
sincere  and  solemn.  He  allows  himself  here  a  little 
beauty  of  form,  instead  of  regarding  the  expression 
of  devoutness  merely. 

A  Madonna  and  Saints,  by  Perugino,  fascinated 
me  by  the  face  of  Mary — very  like  the  adoring 
mother  in  the  Pitti  Palace — a  face  he  .could  not  re- 
peat too  often,  for  it  is  of  the  noblest  type.  "While 
we  were  walking  about,  the  priests  and  monks  of  the 
order  of  St.  Augustine,  who  have  a  convent  attached, 
came  in  a  procession  from  the  sacristy,  and  knelt 
down  in  their  sweeping  black  robes  upon  the  marble 
pavement,  in  two  lines,  one  behind  the  other,  and 
chanted  aloud  their  Ave  Maria.  It  was  a  wonderful 
picture.  We  afterward  went  into  the  cloisters,  in 
the  centre  of  which  was  an  enchanting  lawn,  with 
shrubbery  and  fragrant  flowers,  in  profound  quiet, 
and  wide,  arched  loggie  around,  in  which  to  walk 
and  muse,  and  only  the  sky  above  for  prospect. 
"What  a  chance  and  persuasion  to  be  holy  have  these 
men  in  outward  appliances  ;  yet  how  signally  it  often 
fails,  and  what  a  comment  it  is  upon  man's  arrange- 
ments, when  he  presumes  to  improve  upon  God's 
plans  !  What  looks  so  wondrous,  wondrous  fair.  His 
providence  teaches  us  to  fear.  The  wondrous  fair 
that  can  alone  be  trusted  meets  neither  the  eye  nor 
the  ear  nor  the  touch.  He  has  removed  it  from  all 
possibility  of  harm  or  change.     Angels  only  are  fit 


444  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

to  live  as  monks  pretend  to  live,  and  hence  all  the 
sin  and  woe.  The  relations  of  husband,  wife,  father, 
mother,  brother,  and  sister  must  be  filled  by  human 
beings,  because  Infinite  wisdom  designed  the  family 
as  best  for  man.  It  is  singular  that  in  monasteries 
and  all  communities  strictly  of  men,  one  always  has 
a  sense  of  a  great  want — an  emptiness,  and.  an  ab- 
sence of  thorough  order  and  nicet}^  They  never 
seem  clean ;  the  beauty  of  holiness  and  cleanliness, 
which  is  next  to  godliness,  are  lacking.  I  have  a 
shuddering  perception  of  this  whenever  I  am  within 
their  precincts,  though  I  cannot  tell  why  or  how. 


Santa  Annunziata, 

July  6th. — This  morning  we  went  to  the  Santa 
Annunziata.  It  stands  in  a  large  piazza,  adorned 
by  a  noble  equestrian  statue  of  Ferdinand  I.,  who 
is  gazing  up  at  a  palace  with  a  most  earnest  ex- 
pression— and  both  palace  and  statue  are  set  to 
music  by  Mr.  Browning.*  It  is  the  old  Biccardi 
Palace,  and  what  is  now  called  the  Biccardi  in  the 
Yia  Larga  was  then  the  Medici  Palace,  where  i\\& 
Grand  Duke  Ferdinand  lived  and  had  his  Feast,  at 
which  the  "  one  word"  passed,  heard  onh'  by  the 
bridegroom ;  from  which  came  all  her  misery. 
There  are  two  fountains  in  the  piazza,  and  tlie 
church  extends  along  the  whole  of  one  side  of  it, 

*"  The  Statue  and  tlie  Bust." 


FLORENCE.  445 

Anotlier  side  is  filled  with  the  Foundling  Hospital, 
"which  has  an  arched  loggia,  and  in  the  lunettes  be- 
neath are  frescoes.  There  is  also  an  arched  loggia 
to  the  building  on  the  third  side,  giving  the  square 
a  verj  stately  aspect.  Entering  the  door  of  the 
Santa  Annunziata,  we  were  in  an  open  court,  sur- 
rounded by  cloisters,  in  which  were  frescoes  on  the 
walls,  by  Pontormo,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  and  Kossi. 
They  are  considered  very  precious,  evidently,  for 
they  are  enclosed  in  plate-glass,  to  keep  them  from 
the  weather.  Pontormo's  I  lihed  best.  He  is 
grander  than  Andrea  del  Sarto  ever  is,  and  was  his 
pupil.  The  interior  of  the  church  is  magnificent, 
the  roof  exceedingly  rich,  and  the  gold  upon  it  is  in 
the  utmost  sheen  and  splendor.  There  are  no  re- 
markable altar-paintings,  except  two  good  ones  by 
Perugino,  especially  an  Assumption,  with  lovely 
angels.  In  the  chapel  of  John  of  Bologna  are  six 
bronze  bas-reliefs,  by  him,  and  a  bronze  crucifix, 
which  are  all  admirable. 

The  high  altar  is  of  solid  silver,  with  a  great  many 
reliefs,  and  a  silver  tabernacle  surmounts  it.  The 
chapel  of  the  Annunziata  is  as  gorgeous  as  it  can  be 
made.  It  holds  the  miraculous  picture  painted  by 
the  angels,  as  the  people  truly  believe.  Eight  thou- 
sand pounds  have  just  been  spent  for  a  new  crown 
for  this  angelic  portrait ;  but  it  is  so  sacred  that  it 
is  kept  veiled,  excepting  on  one  or  two  particular 
occasions  in  the  year,  and  we  could  not  see  it  to- 
day.    This  shrine  is  erected  in  a  corner  of  the  nave. 


446  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

and  climbs  up  into  a  Gotliic  point,  witL.  a  multituda 
of  angels,  and  wreatlis,  and  ornaments.  As  many 
as  fifty  very  large,  ever -burning  lamps  hung  from 
tbe  roof  above  it,  all  of  silver,  and  silver  vases  of 
silver  lilies  stand  on  the  silver  altar.  Tlie  people 
were  kneeling  within  and  around  it  in  passionate 
adoration.  One  man  stood  so  long  kissing  the 
shrine  and  pressing  his  brow  upon  it,  that  he  seemed 
fastened  by  some  spell.  Forloi'n  and  wretched 
creatures  looked  up  at  the  veiled  painting  as  they 
would  into  heaven  itself.  There  was  no  sham  nor 
lukewarm  prayer-mumbling,  in  all  the  throng. 
Alongside  the  chapel  is  an  oratory,  very  rich  with 
pietra-dura  mosaics,  emblems  of  the  Yirgin — roses, 
lilies,  stars — and  the  floor  is  of  marbles.  Little  stalls 
and  tabernacles  of  beautiful  forms  surround  it,  and 
in  some  of  them  stand  vases  of  jasper  and  precious 
stones.  It  is  a  wonderful  oratory,  and  sanctified  by 
devout  homage,  I  am  sure.  From  one  of  the  tran- 
septs we  found  our  way  into  the  cloisters,  in  which 
the  lunettes  are  all  painted  in  fresco  with  events  in 
the  lives  of  the  seven  founders  ;  and  between  each 
are  portraits  of  distinguished  members  of  this  order, 
which  was  that  of  St.  Augustine.  One  of  the  fres- 
coes in  the  cloisters  is  the  Madonna  of  the  Sack,  by 
Andrea  del  Sarto,  quite  famous ;  but  I  was  very 
much  disappointed  in  it.  Mar}^  sits  upon  the  ground, 
with  the  infant  in  her  lap.  Her  face  is  round  and 
full,  without  any  divine  expression.  Joseph  is  seated 
on  a  sack,  with  a  book.     It  has  a  certain  free  and 


FLOREl^CE.  447 

flowing  style  ;  but  eA^en  before  being  injured  by  time, 
I  do  not  see  how  it  could  ever  liave  been  a  great 
picture.    I  cannot  discover  Andrea  del  Sarto's  merits. 

Comins:  borne,  we  went  to  tlie  Palace  of  the  Conte 
Cavaliere  Giulio  da  Montauto,  to  inquire  about  his 
villa,  which  we  think  of  taking  ;  and  then  we  returned 
through  the  open  court  of  the  Strozzi  Palace,  sur- 
rounded by  stone  columns  and  loggie.  It  looks 
eternal,  like  the  others. 

This  evening  messengers  came  from  the  Count, 
to  say  we  could  have  his  villa. 

July  7th. — This  morning  I  went  with  J to  the 

Museum,  and  the  rest  of  us  to  the  Pitti  Palace.     By 

and  by  Mr.  H.  and  E.  joined  J- and  me.     J 

and  I  were  faithfully  looking  at  everything,  and  dying 
of  fatigue.  "We  had  been  through  all  the  precious 
stones,  marbles,  quartzes,  and  granites.  We  had  seen 
the  great  Carbuncle,  and  no  diamonds,  because  they 
were  all  put  up  on  the  highest  shelves ;  bu.t  spark- 
ling garnets,  mild,  refreshing  emeralds,  gorgeous 
amethysts,  and  endless  varieties  of  opals  and  chale- 
donies  and  onyxes.  Then  we  saw  specimens  of  all 
the  fishes  in  the  seas— then  of  all  the  insects,  many 
of  which  were  once  living  jewels — then  of  every ^ 
kind  of  butterfly  that  had  burst  out  of  a  chrysalis. 
Then  we  saw  wax  models  of  rare  exotics  and  fruits, 
and  a  collection  of  stuffed  birds ;  and  the  richest, 
most  blazing,  fiery  splendors  of  gems,  I  found  on 
throats  of  humming-birds.     One  had  an  amethystine 


448  NOTES  IF  ITALY. 

breast,  which  I  never  saw  before — otliers  were  of 
bright  gold,  going  through  all  sliades  of  orange  to 
deep  dahlia  crimson — passing  through  fire  to  get  to 
crimson — all  gradations  of  blue,  from  turquoise  to 
deep  sapphire  and  midniglit  blue — and  changes  of 
shilling  emerald.  There  was  a  bird-of-paradise  of 
rare  beauty  ;  and  the  parrots  in  a  corner  looked  like 
a  fierce  autumnal  sunset ;  and  for  the  first  time  I  saw 
here  birds  entirely  of  bright  azure  (not  cobalt,  like 
our  bluebirds).  Then  we  had  another  show  of  beauty 
and  of  color  in  the  shells.  There  were  two  real  pearls 
still  upon  the  oyster  where  they  grew,  more  beautiful 
than  any  in  the  British  Museum,  and  lovely  opally 
nautili,  besides  specimens  of  every  other  that  has 
been  created.  We  had  stuffed  animals  also,  and 
their  skeletons,  and  wax  models  of  interiors  of  ani- 
mals, very  curious  and  very  horrid,      *     '^     *     ■^'' 

This  extensive  museum  adjoins  the  grounds  of 
the  Pitti  Palace,  and  is  a  part  of  the  amusements  of 
the  Grand  Duke,  which  he  hospitably  shares  with 
the  people  ;  for  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in 
Florence  can  go  in  freely  from  ten  to  three  o'clock 
every  day.  His  Grand  Grace  does  not  allow  of  any 
chairs  through  the  whole  suite  of  rooms,  and  all  who 
enter  must  go  into  each  room  in  regular  order  ;  and 
not  retrace  their  steps,  though  they  may  remain 
hours  on  the  way.  Being  utterly  weary,  however, 
I  sat  down  upon  some  stairs,  v/here  no  sentinel  was 
watching,  as  I  could  at  the  worst  but  be  told  to  gei 
up  and  move  on.     I  was  not  disturbed. 


FLORENCE.  449 

BoBOLi  Gaudens, — San  Mahco, — etc. 

July  8tli. — This  Avas  a  day  when  the  Boboli  Gar 
deus  are  open,  and  I  took  B.  there  to  stay  as  long 
as  she  hked.  She  fetched  her  jurap-rope,  and  her 
doll  Daisy  in  her  little  chair,  and  her  fan.  (It  is 
but  a  few  steps  from  Casa  del  Bello.)  She  also 
took  some  bread  for  the  swans,  and  I  took  a  book. 
"When  we  arrived  at  the  Lake  of  Swans,  the}^  were 
in  high  displeasure,  striking  out  their  snowy  wings, 
and  actually  groaning  with  unmelodious  noise. 
They  were  hungry,  and  scolding  at  a  man  who  was 
going  upon  the  island,  demanding  food  of  him.  He 
threw  them  some  green  leaves,  which  they  devoured, 
and  then  they  turned  their  magnificent  state  toward 
B.,  who  was  leaning  on  the  balustrade.  They  ate  her 
bread  with  satisfaction  and  dignity,  and  then  sailed 
off,  in  full  trim,  and  we  proceeded  to  a  lovely  lawn, 
where  were  many  wild-flowers ;  and  after  exhausting 
that,  we  found  still  another,  where  B.  jumped  rope, 
after  tying  up  her  bouquets  with  grass.  Doll  Daisy 
sat  radiant  in  her  arm-chair,  holding  her  little 
mamma's  fan  and  nosegaj^s.  We  had  all  the  rust- 
ling, blossoming,  fragrant  garden  of  Eden  to  our- 
selveSj  and  seemed  alone  on  a  new  earth,  after  we 
left  the  lake.     At  last  B.  found  a  dead  butterfly, 

which  she  wished  to  give  to  J immediately,  and 

so  we  came  home.     In  the  afternoon  we  drove  out  to 
Bellosguardo,  to  see  Miss  Blagden  and  tell  her  about 


450  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

our  taking  the  Count  Montauto's  villa,  and  slie  went 
with  us  to  see  it.     It  has  forty  rooms. 

July  9th. — We  celebrated  our  great  day  by  going 
to  San  Marco,  the  home  of  Fra  Angelieo,  where  his 
finest  pictures  are  kept.  The  church  itself  is  not 
handsome,  outside  or  inside.  In  one  of  the  chapels 
there  is  a  very  ancient  mosaic  of  the  Yirgin,  with 
extended  arms,  and  saints  around  her.  The  face 
and  figure  strangely  reminded  me  of  Mrs.  Siddons. 
Over  the  door  is  the  famous  crucifix  by  Giotto, 
which  established  his  fame  above  Cimabue ;  but  it 
was  difficult  to  see  it  in  the  dim  light,  it  was  so 
"  high  up-hung,"  though  I  greatly  desired  to  exam- 
ine it  minutely.  As  far  as  I  could  discover,  the 
expression  of  the  head  of  Christ  was  very  beautiful. 
In  the  chapel  of  the  Salviati  are  many  bronzes,  and 
among  them  a  St.  John  Baptist  and  some  bas-reliefs 
by  John  of  Bologna.  St.  John  is  a  powerful  figure, 
in  the  act  of  blessing.  The  reliefs  are  placed  too 
high  to  be  seen — ^liow  unaccountably  foolish !  I 
could  only  discern  admirable  figures,  but  no  faces. 

The  chapel  of  the  Holy  Sacrament  is  inlaid  with 
marbles,  and  contains  paintings  by  Pocetti  and  a 
new  tomb  to  a  Prince  Poniatowski ;  but  except  some 
grand  and  expressive  frescoes  of  saints,  there  was 
nothing  to  interest  us.  The  sacristan  then  took  us 
to  the  cloisters  and  Chapter-house,  where  were  a 
few  of  Fra  Angelico's  works.  In  the  Chapter-house 
is  a  very  large  Crucifixion  by  him,  with  a  prcdella 


FLORENCE.  451 

of  saints,  but  it  was  not  equal  to  many  other  of  hig 
frescoes;  and  I  was  told,  to  my  cliagrin,  that  the 
very  best  of  all  no  ladies  could  see !  not  even  the 
illuminated  missal.  A  French  woman  was  copying 
his  great  Crucifixion  ;  but  I  was  so  immensely  dis- 
appointed and  really  heart-smitten  to  find  I  could 
not  get  at  the  inner  treasures,  that  I  hardly  looked 
at  that,  or  at  any  of  Pocetti's  frescoes.  I  was  glad 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  cloisters,  exactly  where 
Fra  Angelico  himself  had  paced,  while  meditating 
angels,  virgins,  and  saints,  and  living  his  holy  life. 
He  must  have  consecrated  the  stones. 

In  the  church,  near  the  entrance,  was  a  wooden 
image  of  Christ,  sitting  with  bound  hands,  and  the 
crown  of  thorns  upon  his  head,  from  which  blood 
was  trickling  over  his  figure.  An  expression  of  the 
utmost  pain  is  in  both  face  and  'form.  A  great 
many  candles  were  burning  around  this  distressing 
object,  and  a  crowd  of  people  were  kneeling  before 
it ;  and  the  whole  chapel  was  filled  with  offerings 
from  the  devout — silver  and  gold  hearts  without 
number,  chains  and  all  kinds  of  trinkets ;  and 
watches  (!)  were  hung  round  the  neck  and  arms. 
It  was  the  most  extraordinary,  repulsive,  and  even 
grotesque  spectacle.  Opposite,  behind  glass,  was  a 
painted  wooden  group  of  the  Nativity.  The  Yirgin 
was  dressed  in  white  silk,  starred  with  gold,  and  a 
blue  cardinal,  edged  with  gold  lace  :  round  her 
neck  were  several  strings  of  oriental  pearls,  and 
in  her  bodice  a  heap  of  jewels  and  rosaries — on  her 


453  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

fingers  a  dozen  rings,  and  emerald  and  gold  brace- 
lets on  her  arms.  Tlie  baby  lay  on  clotli  of  gold, 
and  every  appurtenance  was  in  this  gaudy  style — 
so  unlike  the  manger  and  the  unadorned  young 
mother.  But  these  people  hear  of  Mary  only  as 
"  Queen  of  angels"  and  "  Mother  of  God,"  and  as 
they  do  not  read  the  Bible,  they  know  nothing  of 
her  humble  circumstances. 

Finally,  we  went  to  the  Uffizzi,  and  in  the  Tribune 
I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  a  picture  by  Rubens  of 
Hercules  between  Pleasure  and  Wisdom.  The  fig- 
ure of  Pleasure  is  as  big  as  a  hogshead,  and  as  fat 
as  his  Bacchus.  It  is  truly  laughable  in  itself ;  and 
as  it  is  Venus,  the  contrast  between  it  and  the  Venus 
di  Medici,  near  by,  makes  it  preposterous.  One  a 
delicate  dream  of  beauty,  and  the  other  a  large 
portion  of  the  earth's  substance.  Rubens  must 
sometimes  have  taken  beer-barrels  for  models,  and 
touched  them  off  with  arms  and  heads  and  legs. 
But  the  picture  is  so  admirable  that  one  feels  ex- 
asperated. Titian's  Venus  is  another  conception. 
The  Madonna  of  Perugino  is  noble  and  affecting ; 
and  the  child  on  her  knee  of  the  loveliest  grace, 
while  St.  John  the  Baptist  is  grand  and  pensive. 
The  expression  of  the  whole  picture  is  sad  with 
mighty  prophecy  and  prefigurement  of  sorrow  and 
trial.  Wonderful,  wonderful  is  Perugino  in  mani- 
festing this  divine  seriousness,  and  calm,  grave 
acceptance  of  the  Cross.  At  the  other  side  stands 
St.  Sebastian,  pierced  with  arrows  for  the  sake  of 


FLORENCE.  453 

the  lovelj  and  lioly  babe,  wlio  is  turning  to  St.  Jolm. 
Again  I  looked  earnest!}'  at  Michel  Angelo's  Holy 
Family,  and  Mary  remains  to  me  entirely  without 
beauty,  power,  or  charm  of  any  kind. 

The  perfection  of  the  form  of  the  Venus  di  Medici 
impresses  me  more  and  more,  and  the  face  loses  its 
first  effect.  Froai  one  point  it  is  btill  sweet  and 
dignified,  but  from  others  it  is  simple  and  simper- 
ing, I  fear.  It  was  evidently  of  secondarj^  interest 
to  Cleomenes  to  elabqrate  the  face ;  or  perhaps  the 
face  is  not  his. 

July  12th. — To-day  I  went  to  see  a  villa  three 
miles  from  Florence,  highly  recommended  for  situa- 
tion and  convenience  and  elegance  ;  but  I  found  it 
had  been  misrepresented,  though  it  had  orange  and 
lemon  trees,  a  vineyard,  and  delicious  flowers.  It 
was  altogether  inferior  to  Montauto,  and  I  concluded 
I  did  not  like  it.  I  brought  home  a  bouquet  to  Mr. 
H.,  which  taught  him  all  that  odors  could  about 
Paradise ;  and  while  we  were  feehng  rich  with  this 
nosegay,  the  bell  rang,  and  a  large  gipsy-hat-shaped 
basket  was  presented,  filled  with  fragrant  and  glo- 
rious flowers  from  the  Villa  Tassinari,  with  Miss 
Howorth's  card.  There  were  long  branches  of  noi- 
sette rosebuds,  hxilf-bloomed ;  every  shade  of  double 
carnations,  each  one  an  Arabia  of  sweetness ;  helio- 
trope in  profusion,  bringing  the  delicate,  yet  heavy 
richness  of  the  tropics ;  rose  and  scarlet  geraniums ; 
spikes  of  the  trumpet  bignonia ;  a  white  blossom  of 


454  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

the  texture  of  tlie  magnolia,  with  a  scent  bewilder 
ing  in  delightsomeness ;  oleanders,  now  in  perfec- 
tion ;  and  manj^  others,  whose  names  I  do  not  know, 
— all  of  them  reposing  upon  a  substruction  of  ver- 
bena, the  odoriferous,  which  has  such  a  spirit  in  its 
sweetness.  Must  not  the  Yilla  Tassinari  be  Eden 
itself? 

Academy  op  Fine  Arts,  and  other  places. 

July  13th. — We  went  to  the  Academy  of  Arts  this 
morning.  "We  wished  to  see  the  Peruginos  again. 
Mr.  H.  thought  that,  in  the  Pieta,  the  face  of  Mary 
has  more  depth  of  expression  than  in  the  Deposition 
of  the  Pitti.  It  certainly  seems  to  express  all ;  but 
this  face  appears  to  be  of  Mary  after  the  first  hours 
have  passed,  and  she  no  longer  gazes  in  agony  to 
find  if  it  be  indeed  true  that  he  is  dead — as  in  the 
larger  picture.  She  here  knows  it  but  too  well. 
The  sword  is  deep  in  her  soul,  and  there  is  no 
anguish  of  inquiry.  It  is  all  still  and  hopeless — an 
old  and  settled  misery.  They  have  all  been  sitting 
and  standing  here  a  long  time,  and  no  more  ask, 
"  Can  it  be?"  It  is,  and  they  must  bear  it  as  they 
best  can.  There  is  hardly  a  face  in  art  to  be  seen 
like  this  one  of  Mary.  I  think  I  said  of  the  Mag- 
dalen, when  I  saw  it  first,  that  she  was  not  beautiful. 
But  she  is  beautiful.  I  felt  the  other  da}"  so  deeply 
the  overpowering  sentiment  of  her  face,  that  I  really 
quite  disregarded  her  features.  They  are  very  noble, 
and  her  hair  is  rich  and  golden.     Vast  and  passion- 


FLOBENCE.  455 

ate  is  lier  sorrow ;  but  liow  different  from  tlie  inti- 
mate sorrow  of  tlie  Mother  !  I  am  tempted  almost 
to  say  tliat  no  one  equals  Perugino,  wlien  I  think  of 
these  two  pictures,  added  to  many  others  of  his 
which  I  have  now  seen.  In  this  hall  of  the  Academy 
is  a  Descent  from  the  Cross,  and  on  the  left,  a  group 
of  Marys  support  the  Madonna,  who  is  fainting. 
And  now  I  am  ready  to  exclaim,  that  never  before 
was  painted  such  a  form  and  face  as  the  Virgin's 
here,  while  every  face  and  form  around  her  are  pre- 
eminently lovely  and  powerful  in  expression.  But 
the  fainting  Mother!  She  has  seen  the  drooping 
head  of  her  Son,  as  Joseph  gently  deposes  it,  and 
the  sickness  of  death  has  come  over  her.  She  is 
drooping  too,  and  will  fall  directly.  A  mortal  pale- 
ness this  instant  s^^reads  over  her,  and  one  perceives 
tlie  failing  of  her  too  agonized  consciousness,  and 
the  heavy,  heavy  weight  of  her  form  collapsing,  and 
drawing  down  the  encircling  arms  of  her  friends. 
It  is  a  group  that  might  make  any  artist  immortal, 
if  he  had  done  no  more.  The  upper  part  of  this 
Descent  from  the  Cross  is  painted  by  Lippi.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  adoring  Mary  in  the  Pitti, 
folding  her  hands  over  the  infant ;  happy  then,  yet 
with  a  prophecy  in  her  heart  of  something  unspeak- 
able in  the  future  of  her  baby — is  the  same  Mary 
who  is  fainting  in  the  Descent,  and  upon  recover- 
ing, gazes  with  such  searching,  tearful  dismay  in  the 
Deposition— and  finally,  sits  with  the  beloved  form 
extended  upon  her  knees,  in  this  Pieta,  completely 


ioQ  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

bereaved.  It  is  the  same  person — the  same  noble, 
grand,  tender  conception,  which,  I  believe,  has  never 
been  equalled  b}^  any  painter  in  the  world.  Eaphael 
is  inimitable  in  happy  Madonnas,  lovelj^,  pure,  sacred 
yonng  virgins;  but  Perugino,  the  old  master,  has 
alone  portrayed  the  pathos,  grandeur,  and  religion 
of  beauty  in  the  Adolorata.  Raphael  was  not  in- 
clined to  paint  this  subject,  either  because  his  gay, 
unclouded  nature  naturally  avoided  themes  so  sad, 
or  because  he  saw  that  Perugino  had  accomplished 
all  that  was  to  be  desired  in  this  kind.  I  cannot 
now  remember  any  sad  picture  hj  Raphael. 

We  looked  at  Geutile  da  Fabriano's  wonderful 
Epiphany,  in  which  there  is  not  one  ordinary  face 
in  all  the  gorgeous  group ;  and  at  Lippo  Lippi's 
Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  crowned  by  the  Eternal 
Father,  with  its  exquisite  predella,  containing  the 
annunciation  of  the  death  of  the  Madonna,  a  miracle 
of  genius  again  ;  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  were 
by  Perugino,  as  he  and  Lippo  Lippi  did  sometimes 
paint  in  the  same  composition  together.  I  scribbled 
a  miserable  little  sketch  of  it  in  my  note-book.  The 
tender  reserve  of  Gabriel,  the  majestic  sweetness  of 
Mary  as  she  takes  the  torch!  Whence  could  come 
the  inspiration  of  these  men,  if  not  straight  from 
heaven,  where  they  sought  it !  They  must  have 
prayed  before  they  drew  a  stroke,  and  then  a  host 
of  angels  guided  their  pencils.  Could  any  'one  but 
an  angel  have  painted  his  brother  Gabriel  in  this 
predella  ? 


FLORENCE.  457 

Now-a-dajstlie  angels  seem  to  be  farther  offj  driven 
awaj  bj  profane  artists. 

July  1-ltli. — In  the  afternoon  I  drove  with  U. 
and  E.  and  Ada  to  Bellosguardo  to  me^t  the  young 
Count  and  his  steward  at  the  Yilla  Montauto,  to 
make  arrangements.  The  Count  was  resolved  to 
speak  English,  and  we  had  rather  a  confused  inter- 
view, because  he  did  not  speak  it  very  well ;  but  I 
made  him  understand  that  we  would  go  to  the  Villa 
on  the  first  of  August. 

July  15th. — This  morning  we  went  to  the  Bargello, 
the  old  palace  of  the  Podesta,  hoping  to  get  in  to 
see  its  treasures,  especially  Giotto's  Dante.  We 
mounted  its  fine  old  staircase  in  the  court,  and,  with 
a  grate  between  us,  talked  with  an  officer,  who  said 
we  could  not  go  in  without  the  custode,  who  was 
then  to  be  found  at  the  Riccardi  Palace.  All  round 
the  walls  of  the  building  were  the  arms  of  the  various 
persons  who  had  held  the  power,  cut  in  stone,  other- 
wise we  were  none  the  richer  for  our  attempt.  So  we 
got  admittance  into  the  Church  of  La  Badia,  opposite 
the  Bargello.  The  ceiling  is  of  richlj^  carved  woods, 
and  it  is  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross.  There  are 
two  marble  monuments  by  Mino  da  Piesole,  and  a 
good  china  bas-relief  of  the  Yirgin  by  Luca  della 
Robbia,  and  Fihppo  Lippi's  best  easel  picture  of 
the  Madonna  with  angels,  appearing  to  St.  Bernard. 
A  beautiful  light  campanile    belongs  to  La  Badia, 

20 


458  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

wliich  is  always  a  graceful  feature  of  the  views  of 
tlie  city. 

At  tlie  Uffizzi,  we  found  the  bronze  room  open, 
and  looked  again  at  the  Mercury  of  John  of  Bologna, 
and  Benvenuto  Cellinrs  colossal  head  of  Cosmo  I. 
The  wings  on  the  cap  and  feet  of  Mercury  are  su- 
perfluous, for  he  is  absolute  Wing.  In  the  cabinet  of 
ancient  bronzes  we  looked  at  the  small  Etruscan 
groups  which  were  mended  by  Benvenuto  Cellini  in 
the  presence  of  Cosmo  I.,  who  was  so  fond  of  seeing 
him  put  on  little  legs,  arms,  and  feet,  that  he  hindered 
the  progress  of  Perseus,  by  constantly  demanding 
that  he  should  work  upon  them  at  the  Palace. 

In  the  cabinet  of  gems,  two  crystal  cups,  with  gold 
covers,  were  his, — the  crystal  exquisitely  cut,  and 
the  covers  enamelled,  and  adorned  with  gems.  One 
would  think  he  must  have  had  the  finger-tips  of  a 
fairy.  How  astonishing  that  the  man  Avho  could 
model  a  demigod  in  his  fair  proportions,  tossing  him 
through  the  foundrj^  in  a  thunder-gust,  should  also 
so  compose  his  hand  and  eye  as  to  fashion  tiny 
figures  for  ladies'  rings,  brooches  for  Popes  and 
Princes,  in  designs  as  delicate  and  fine  as  frost-work, 
with  arabesques  of  spider-thread  tenuity. 

In  the  afternoon  I  took  a  drive  with  Miss  Blagden 
and  U.,  and  we  went  to  the  great  silk  establishment 
of  Lombardi,  in  the  Piazza  Maria  Antonia,  which 
seemed  a  fine  palace,  and  not  a  house  of  merchan- 
dise. Upon  entering,  what  was  my  surprise  to  find 
ourselves  in  a  room  hung  round  with  the  original 


FLORENCE.  459 

drawings  of  Pi,aj)liael,  Micliel  Angclo,  Murillo,  and 
other  masters !  We  bouglit  silk,  and  tlien  the  grand 
Lorabardi  invited  us  up-stairs,  "  to  see,"  he  said,  "  his 
little  Baphael."  Here  were  three  fine  drawing- 
rooms,  adorned  with  oil-paintings,  and  among  them, 
under  a  golden  canopy,  a  Yirgin  and  Child  by 
Raphael — a  simple,  pure,  lovely  picture,  in  his  first 
style.  This  was  a  wonder,  to  be  sure !  Where 
could  he  have  obtained  them  all,  and  how !  He 
asked  us  for  " our  revered  names"  and  begged  us  to 
call  at  any  time  to  enjoy  his  treasures.  It  is  plain 
enough,  I  suppose,  that  he  has  monej^,  and  that 
for  money,  enough  of  it,  one  can  purchase  even  a 
Raphael.  Princes  are  often  rich  only  in  masterpieces 
of  genius,  while  merchants  are  rich  in  the  gold  that 
princes  need,  and  so  the  exchange  is  made.  Happy 
is  Lombardi  to  know  so  well  what  money  is  good 
for.  He  has  made  a  shrine  for  his  precious  "  little 
Baphael" — a  tabernacle,  perhaps  of  pure  gold,  which 
shows  his  appreciation  of  it.  After  this  most  un- 
expected delight,  we  drove  to  the  Cascine,  where  all 
the  beauty  and  fashion  of  Florence  were  abroad, 
walking  and  sitting  in  various  splendid  equipages, 
listening  to  a  glorious  band  of  music.  It  was  a 
scene  one  dreams  of,  but  seldom  sees. 

****** 

PiTTi  Palace. 

July  19th. — We  went  to-day  to  the  Pitti  Palace. 
I  find  that  there  are  two  portraits  of  Ippolito  di 


460  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

Medici,  one  by  Titian  and  one  bj  Pontormo 
Titian's  is  superb.  He  is  in  a  Hungarian  dresSj 
buttoned  up  to  the  tliroat,  whicli  is  yerj  becoming, 
when  a  handsome  head  and  face  are  shut  off  in  that 
way.  He  stands  with  a  wonderful  dignitj^  and 
grace,  and  his  features  and  style  of  head  are  of 
fascinating  beauty,  though  I  am  sure  he  is  not  a 
good  man.  He  looks  dark  and  treacherous,  with  a 
princely  state,  worthy  of  a  higher  character.  The 
Madonna  della  Seggiola  is  a  sumptuous  flower  of 
rainbow  colors,  all  softened  and  blended.  The  child 
is  grand,  with  his  wonderful  gray  eyes  looking  into 
the  future,  pure  and  limpid  as  the  twilight  sky 
And  his  mouth  is  the  richest  blossom  of  innocence, 
peace,  and  charity  that  ever  bloomed  from  the 
palette.  This  is  in  Eaphael's  third  style,  and  the 
Madonna  of  the  Grand  Duke  is  in  his  second  style, 
with  reserved  mouth  and  lily  lids,  half  closed,  like 
curved  petals  over  the  soul  of  her  beauty.  She  has 
an  air  of  having  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  world, 
and  so  she  does  not  look  out  upon  it ;  henceforth 
pondering  over  her  own  heart.  The  soft,  prophetic 
splendor  of  the  Seggiola  infant's  eyes  is  not  seen  in 
this  babe's.  These  are  harder ;  but  the  head  is 
noble. 

While  we  were  occupied  with  the  pictures,  the 
military  band  struck  up  in  the  Piazza  before  the 
Palace,  as  usual  at  that  hour,  and  glorified  the  com- 
mon day,  and  added  life  to  the  painted  forms  and 
faces.     We  came  doAvn  and  went  into  the  magnifi' 


FLORENCE.  401 

cent  cortile  of  tho  Paliice,  which  Luca  Pitti  said 
might  hold  within  it  the  Pahxzzo  Strozzi ;  and  walked 
round  it,  listening  to  the  music. 

In  the  afternoon,  J and  I  went  to  the  Carmine, 

where  the  frescoes  of  Massaccio  and  Lippi  fill  one 
chapel.  Michel  Angelo  and  Raphael  considered 
them  worth  studying  and  copying.  St.  Paul  visit- 
ing St.  Peter  in  prison,  on  a  pilaster,  resembles 
Raphael's  St.  Paul  preaching  at  Athens,  though 
Massaccio's  stands  with  his  back  to  the  on-looker. 
Nero,  commanding  the  death  of  St.  Paul,  is  a  perfect 
Nero,  an  epitome  of  all  the  marbles  of  him.  The 
grandeur,  force,  expression,  and  fire  of  these  faded 
old  frescoes  are  marvellous,  while  the  outlines  are 
hard.     The  drawing,  also,,  is  superb.     The  light  was 

not  good,  and  J was  impatient,  and  could  not 

conceive  what  I  wished  to  stay  in  such  a  dismal 
place  for.  So  I  deferred  my  study  of  them,  and  we 
crossed  the  Arno  by  the  Santa  Trinita  bridge,  and 
went  into  the  Church  of  the  Santa  Trinita  to  see 
Ghirlandaio's  frescoes.  BuL  a  priest  came  to  tell 
me  that  the  morning  was  the  only  good  time  for 
them,  and  I  found  I  could  distinguish  nothing;  so  I 
looked  at  a  singular  wooden  statue  of  Mary  Magda- 
len, near  the  entrance.  She  is  nude;  but  clothed  in 
the  torrents  of  hair,  which  flow  round  and  envelop 
her  figure  like  a  mantle,  excepting  her  wasted  arms 
and  feet.  The  face  is  profoundly  woful,  hollow,  and 
worn ;  with  large,  cavernous  eyes  of  piteous  appeal, 
and  a  mouth  of  great  humility  and  contrition.     Yet 


462  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

the  features  are  perfectly  beautiful,  tliougli  so  wasted. 
I  could  fancy  the  countenance,  and  build  it  up  from 
these  wrecks — fresh,  round,  happy,  and  brilliant. 
Now  it  is  a  shadow.  It  was  a  bold  thought  of  the 
sculptor  to  venture  such  a  statue,  but  it  was  evi- 
dently executed  when  an  inward  religious  sentiment 
inspired  artists,  with  no  regard  to  outward  comeli- 
ness.    J was  very  naturally  astonished  that  I 

could  look  a  moment  at  anything  so  ugl}^,  he  said ; 
for  what  could  he,  in  the  early  morning  of  life  and 
experience,  have  within  him,  to  interpret  such  a  face 
and  figure  ?  I  should  have  lamented,  if  he  had  been 
attracted  or  impressed  with  it.  One  must  at  least 
live  and  love  and  fail  to  reach  the  ideal,  to  under- 
stand such  a  conception.     J understood  better 

the  glorious  sunset  over  the  Apennines,  which  was 
changing  the  Arno  into  jasper  and  chalcedonj^,  and 
sending  isles  of  the  blest  of  purest  gold,  to  float 
over  the  blue  sea  of  space  above ;  while  San 
Miniato,  toward  the  east,  with  its  grove  of  solemn 
cypresses,  became  soft  in  a  veil  of  rose-purple, 
which  floated  down  over  the  palaces  at  the  base  of 
the  transfigured  hill,  upon  which  the  church  stands. 
During  one  precious  half-hour  before  the  great  al- 
chymist  disappears,  there  is  no  end  of  the  splendors 
his  parting  glance  throws  over  every  object.  He 
has  gone,  and  in  a  moment  the  mountains  are  no 
longer  "  the  Delectable,"  the  isles  of  the  blest  are 
blots  of  ink,  the  domes  and  palaces  dull  stones  and 
not  jewels,  and  all  is  gray,  except  a  deep  radiance 


FLORENCE.  403 

just  above  the  bed  of  state.  That  remains,  and 
often  sends  out  rays  of  pale  color  that  lose  them- 
selves in  the  purple  black  abysses,  through  which  the 
stars,  one  by  one,  and  suddenly  in  innumerable  hosts, 
gleam  out  upon  their  watch. 

July  22d. — To-day  I  took  the  children  with  Ada 
to  see  the  plate  at  the  Pitti  Palace,  because  wo 
heard  that  some  of  it  vv^as  designed  and  cut  by  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini  and  John  of  Bologna.  We  saw  an 
entire  service  of  gold,  and  another  of  silver,  with 
plates,  knives,  forks,  and  spoons,  and  dishes  enough 
for  a  dukedom,  and  epergnes  of  lovely  design,  chased 
and  jew^elled.  But  all  these  were  merely  costly. 
There  were,  however,  a  few  exquisite  goblets  and 
vases  and  cups  enamelled  and  gemmed  by  Benve- 
nuto  Cellini,  and  a  great  many  salvers  covered  with 
figures  by  John  of  Bologna,,  as  well  as  a  large  niello 
by  him,  and  crucifixes  in  gold,  silver,  bronze,  ivory, 
and  precious  stones,  by  both.  For  gorgeousness, 
merely,  there  was  a  shrine  three  feet  high,  made  en- 
tirely of  gold,  pearl,  and  precious  stones,  with  little 
figures  of  coralline  and  jasper  and  amethyst ;  but 
we  were  hurried  by  the  guard,  and  my  memory  of  it 
all  is  only  a  confused  sort  of  glory. 

We  went  into  the  gardens  after  leaving  the  pal- 
ace, to  look  at  four  unfinished  statues  by  Michel 
Angelo,  now  in  a  grotto  with  other  old  marbles 
and  busts.  These  unfinished  works  of  Michel  An- 
gelo give  me  a  more  vivid  sense  of  his  mighty  power, 


464  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

than  even  liis  finished  statues.  In  them  we  see  him 
sfcrnggling  with  the  stone,  and  wrenching  from  it  the 
forms  imprisoned  within.  Bjron  sings  of  "  his  chisel, 
driven  into  the  marble  chaos,  bidding  Moses  stop  the 
waves  in  stone,"  and  so  we  seem  to  see  it  plunging 
and  delving  in  these  Pitti  blocks.  It  is  more  like 
Milton's  description  of  creation  than  anything  else. 

July  23d. — To-day  Louisa  and  Annie  Powers  ac- 
companied ITS  to  the  Guadagni  and  Corsini  galle- 
ries. That  of  the  Guadagni  is  very  small.  There 
are  many  portraits  by  Sustermans,  and  one  lovely 
Madonna  by  Paphael  in  liis  second  style  ;  pure,  sa- 
cred, serene,  without  the  deep  richness  of  his  third 
manner.  But  the  galler}'  is  particularly  famous  for 
its  two  very  large  landscapes  by  Salvator  Rosa,  to 
which  a  separate  cabinet  is  assigned.  There  are 
groups  of  small  figures  in  them,  and  the  scene  is  a 
great  wilderness  with  mighty  trees.  I  had  not  time 
to  become  at  all  acquainted  Avith  them,  for  the  young 
people  did  not  feel  interested  ;  and  so  we  proceeded 
to  the  Corsini,  on  the  Lung'  Arno.  It  is  the  richest 
private  collection  in  Florence.  "We  found  the  sa- 
loons covered  with  carpets — an  unprecedented  cir- 
cumstance in  galleries.  There  were  beautiful  pic- 
tures, and  quite  a  crowd  of  "  Sweet  Charleses"  (as 
Mr.  H.  calls  Carlo  Dolce),  and  I  do  not  like  his 
works,  with  one  or  two  exceptions.  His  famous 
Poesie  I  do  not  fancy  at  all.  Everj^thing  feminine 
is  too   sweet,  except  the   Madonna   in  the    Grand 


FLOREl^CE.  4G.') 

Duke's  cliamber  in  the  Pitti,  but  some  of  liis  saints 
are  fine,  tliongli  too  metallic.  It  was  worth  while  to 
come  here,  if  only  to  see  Raphael's  cartoon  in  pen- 
cil of  his  portrait  of  Julius  II.  It  has  all  the  im- 
mense power  of  will  and  thought  of  the  oil-painting, 
and  so  far  verifies  Mr.  Powers'  assertion,  that  color 
is  not  needful  to  expression.  This  draAving  is  of  the 
size  of  life,  and  finished  with  the  utmost  nicety  and 
truth.  It  is  a  wonder  and  a  beauty  and  a  lesson  to 
observe  how  the  greatest  masters  carefully  and 
faithfully  and  patiently  elaborated  their  work,  never 
disdaining  an  exhaustive  perfection  in  each  item. 
What  a  vast  labor  is  hei'e,  and  not  a  line  is  omitted 
or  hurried !  It  would  seem  as  if  Raphael  ha.d  an 
eternity  to  work  in,  for  he  was  never  in  haste  ;  yet 
what  an  enormous  amount  he  accomplished — dying 
too  in  early  manhood !  Michel  Angelo,  to  be  sure, 
did  not  show  patience  always,  though  he  has  left 
careful  drawings.  His  genius  seemed  an  Ate,  lash- 
ing him  Avith  her  brand  often.  Tet  there  sit  the  sub- 
lime prophets  and  sibyls  in  infinite  calm ;  and  the 
lovely  form  of  Eve  is  the  ideal  of  woman,  delicate 
and  new  from  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  as  if  she 
peacefully  dawned  upon  his  mind,  as  he  sat  musing 
on  primal  beauty.  There  was  a  small  copy  of  his 
Last  Judgment,  in  brilliant  color,  as  it  originally 
blazed  on  the  walls  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  before 
some  of  the  figures  were  draped  by  order  of  the 
pseudo-modest  Pope,  who  insisted  upon  the  resur- 
rection of  jackets  and  breeches.     The  hues  of  this 

20* 


d66  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

copy  are  a  revelation  to  me  of  the  dazzling  splendor 
of  all  tliose  Sistine  frescoes,  in  their  first  freshness. 
How  stupid  and  short-sighted  to  smoke  and  spoil 
such  divine  productions  with  candles  and  incense- 
vapors,  instead  of  reverently  learning  from  them  how 
to  worship  !  Their  deepest  significance  seems  to 
have  been  lost  upon  the  age  that  produced  them. 
Through  the  mist  and  smutch  of  centuries  we  grope 
for  them,  almost  in  vain.  I  shall  like  to  see  what 
is  to  suppl}^  their  place. 

As  I  think  now  of  a  picture  of  the  Resurrection, 
by  Perugino,  in  the  Yatican,  and  recall  the  perfectly 
beautiful  and  noble  face  of  Raphael  in  early  youth, 
as  one  of  the  sleeping  soldiers,  I  perceive  that  Peru- 
gino must  have  taken  him  for  a  model  for  the 
noblest  of  his  Madonnas — that  of  the  Pitti  Palace. 
I  see  the  strong  resemblance  in  the  contour — the 
exquisite  bow-like  mouth,  the  moony  eyelids,  and 
the  serene,  smooth  brow,  so  compact  with  mind.  I 
wonder  if  any  one  ever  noticed  this. 

In  one  of  the  saloons  we  saw  a  vase  of  marvellous 
beauty  of  design  and  execution — bronze,  about  two 
feet  high.  I  exclaimed  that  it  must  be  by  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini,  and  the  custode  said  it  was  so.  It 
represents,  in  bas-relief,  the  triumph  of  Bacchus. 

Ada  tried  to  draw  it  on  the  spot,  but  in  the  midst 
the  custode  told  her  she  must  not  do  it,  for  it  was 
forbidden.  I  suppose  the  Prince  Corsini  is  afraid 
that  some  artist  will  attempt  to  imitate  it,  and  then 
he  would  not  have  the  only  one  in  the  world.     But 


FLORENCE.  4G7 

wliy  should  he  ?  He  cannot  prevent  my  rememLeiing 
it,  however,  so  distinctly  that  I  can  sketch  it  here  at 
home.  The  figures  are  of  enchanting  grace — and 
the  baby  Bacchus  on  the  panther  and  the  whole  pro- 
cession as  perfect  as  possible. 

After  tea  we  took  a  walk  to  the  Ducal  Villa,  going 
ont  of  the  Porta  Romana,  and  making  a  great  cir- 
cuit, so  that  we  entered  the  city  again  by  the  Porta 
San  Miniato.  The  avenue  of  cypresses  and  other 
trees  leading  to  the  Villa  itself  w'as  very  pleasant,  as 
R.  and  I  experienced  the  other  day,  with  the  beauti- 
ful hills  on  each  side.  U.  undertook  to  be  our  guide, 
but  misled  us  between  endless  stone  walls,  from  one 
opening  of  Avhich,  where  a  church  stood,  w^e  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  Val  d'i^rno,  and  then  were  again 
swallowed  up,  till  w^e  arrived  unexpectedly  at  the 
gate  of  San  Miniato.  The  moon  rose  during  our 
walk,  and  wrapped  us  in  silver-fire — wdiich  odd  com- 
bination of  words  alone  can  convey  an  idea  of  the 
glowing  splendor  of  Italian  moonlight.  Upon  enter- 
ing the  city,  we  crossed  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  so  as  to 
see  the  Arno  flooded  with  light.  Upon  any  one  of 
the  bridges  over  the  Arno,  at  sunset,  moonrise,  or 
starlight,  all  poetrj^  and  visible  art  combine  to  make 
the  scene  wondrous,  besides  that  nature  lends  a  hand 
in  the  river,  the  mountains,  and  the  cypress-crowned 
heights,  immediately  around  Florence. 

I  wish  I  could  seize  something  elusive  and  un- 
satisfactory in  the  divine  loveliness  of  this  Italy,  so 
as  to  express  what  I  always  feel  w^hen  I  look  upon 


468  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

it.  There  is  a  dream-like  quality  in  my  enjoj^ment, 
and  I  cannot  bring  it  home  to  a  sober  certainty.  It 
is  like  the  ghost  of  a  very  precious  reality.  It  is 
something  that  lias  been,  even  while  it  is  noio  that  I 
have  a  sense  of  it.  Italy  is  a  land  of  monuments  ;  and 
those  who  builded  them  have  long  passed  away.  A 
mighty  silence  succeeds  them.  Even  the  people  in 
the  streets  of  to-day  seem  like  puppets  galvanized 
into  motion,  and  the  real,  living,  grand  beings  are  no 
more.  There  is  a  pause  in  all  rare  achievement. 
The  cunning  hand,  the  unerring  eye,  are  nowhere 
to  be  met  with,  though  marvellous  works  attest  their 
former  existence.  It  would  not  be  surprising,  but 
far  less  strange  than  the  present  state  of  things,  if 
all  the  masters  in  Art,  in  State,  and  in  Science,  who 
stand  clothed  in  white  marble  in  the  Court  of  the 
Uffizzi,  were  to  descend  from  their  pedestals  and 
walk  the  streets  of  their  beloved  Florence.  They 
would  be  more  fitting  and  proper  to  the  place  than 
those  persons  whom  we  meet  to-day.  The  latter 
are,  as  it  were,  emj^ty  chrysalids — deserted  shells. 
Something  has  scared  away  souls — and  only  automa- 
tons remain.  Perhaps  the  Medici  were  the  cause  of 
this  death  and  void — the  Medici,  and  then  this 
present  race  of  Grand  Dukes,  When  a  prince  takes 
the  form  of  a  monkey,  he  ought  to  be  deposed.  The 
land  seems  catching  its  breath.  It  is  not  dead,  but 
oppressed  and  suffocated.  I  cannot  put  my  feeling 
into  words,  and  I  may  as  well  not  try  to  do  so. 


FLORENCE.  46£ 


Oe  San  Michele. 


July  28tli. — To-daj  we  went  again  to  Or  San 
Micliele,  and  yeiy  exactl_y  scrutinized  the  wonderful 
Tabernacle  by  Orgagna.  It  was  built  to  contain  a 
miracle-working  picture  of  the  Yirgin.  Or  San 
Micliele  is  one  of  the  glories  of  Florence.  It  was 
once  an  open  loggia, — large  arches,  supported  on 
pillars,  a  sort  of  mart.  In  one  corner  hung  this 
picture,  which  was  of  such  repute  and  efficacy,  that 
there  was  a  perpetual  throng  about  it.  Then  Or- 
gagna raised  for  it  this  magnificent  shrine ;  and 
finally  the  loggia  was  closed  up,  and  became  a 
church,  and  windows  were  put  in  of  the  richest 
painted  glass,  and  the  pillars  were  covered  with 
frescoes,  lately  again  brought  to  light.  The  various 
Guilds  of  the  city  have  a  hall  over  the  church,  and 
the  building  is  lofty  and  noble  ;  and  outside,  around 
it,  are  arched  stalls,  containing  masterpieces  of 
sculpture.  Above  the  niches  are  medallions  by 
Luca  clella  Kobbia,  and,  at  this  moment,  all  these 
niches  and  medallions  are  undergoing  a  thorough 
cleansing  and  repairing,  in  gorgeous  stjde.  Six  are 
already  finished,  and  each  is  different  from  the 
others  in  its  mosaic  of  marbles,  precious  stones,  and 
gold.  One  of  them  is  of  lapis-lazuli,  with  golden 
stars — like  a  midnight  starry  sky. 

The  tabernacle  is  of  white  marble,  and  bas-reliefs 
are  sculptured  over  it.     Some  of  them  have  back- 


470  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

groiinds  of  lapis-lazuli,  upon  wliicli  the  figures  are 
well  defined,  and  there  are  borders  to  the  separate 
groups  of  inlaid  pietre  dure  and  gold.  It  is  Gothic 
in  form,  and  every  pinnacle  flames  with  the  fire  of 
genius,  held  fast  by  cunning  workmanship ;  and 
statuettes  throng  about  it,  angels,  saints,  virtues, 
prophets,  all  rising  to  one  central  point,  upon  which 
stands  the  archangel  Michael,  the  poiver  of  God, 
embodied,  fit  apex  to  such  a  shrine.  The  subjects 
of  the  reliefs  are  the  never-wearying  incidents  in  the 
life  of  the  Madonna  and  of  Christ,  and  behind  is  a  very 
large  sculpture  of  the  death  of  the  Virgin,  with  her 
Assumption  above.  This  death  and  the  Assumption 
are  among  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Catholic  legends, 
and  give  the  noblest  field  for  the  display  of  art. 
.The  djdng holy  mother — the  grave  and  stately  apos- 
tles— the  angels  in  waiting  for  the  passing  spirit — 
the  reverent,  sad  silence — and  then  the  sudden  burst 
of  joy — the  rush  of  wings  and  flutter  of  robes,  the 
glorified,  enraptured  ascended  one — the  trumpets, 
viols,  dulcimers,  and  harps,  weaving  the  air  into  an 
involved  web  of  melodious  ecstasj' — the  Eternal 
Father  opening  the  heavens  to  look  down,  and  the 
Dove,  with  outspread  wings — or  Christ  in  his  own 
form,  ready  with  the  crown  for  Marj^'s  brow — what 
more  could  mortal  artist  Avish  for  the  inspiration  of 
his  genius  and  for  its  expression  ? 

I  wish  now  that  all  the  masterpieces  of  the  jsast 
could  be  thoroughly  restored  in  the  waj^  in  which 
the  Florentines   are   now  restorinsr  the  exterior  of 


FLORENCE.  471 

Or  San  Micliele.  For  now  it  is  worth  wliile,  because, 
probably,  no  more  barbarians  will  come  to  ravage 
Italy,  and  no  more  mad  and  stupid  fanaticism  will 
demolisli  works  of  art.  Everything  in  architecture 
might  be  completely  renovated  in  all  old  countries, 
though  the  divine  frescoes  and  paintings  must 
gradually  vanish.  But  if  we  could  only  retain  the 
Temples  and  Cathedrals,  and  renew  their  ruined  por- 
tions while  enough  remains  sound  to  indicate  what 
they  once  were,  what  a  glory  it  would  be  !  The 
Campanile  must  never  crumble  awaj^,  and  the 
Duomo  must  never  lose  one  of  its  bits  of  inlay,  and 
presently  it  must  show  a  facade  worthy  of  its  heaped 
up  grandeur  in  all  other  parts.  Is  there  anything 
significant  in  the  singular  fact  that  scarcely  one  of 
the  churches  puts  on  a  fair  face  ?  I  sometimes  wish 
I  could  clear  away  all  modern  Eome,  and  set  out 
again  the  temples  and  palaces  of  the  ancient  city. 
But  we  cannot  hold  on  to  those  marvellous  produc- 
tions, and  I  doubt  not  there  is  a  good  reason  why 
not.  I  should  like  to  see  what  is  to  follow  that  will 
be  better  than  they.  A  better  comprehension  of 
Religion  and  Life  may  develop  a  hidden  power  of 
art ;  though,  really,  if  I  would  see  more  divine  faces 
than  those  of  Perugino  and  Eaphael,  I  think  I  must 
ascend  to  another  world,  and  not  look  into  the 
future  of  this. 

Toward  sunset  we  drove  out  to  the  Yilla  Mon- 
tanto,  to  take  the  inventory  and  keys.  "We  found 
everything  in  order,  all  the  muslin  curtains  in  the 


472  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

bedrooms  snowy  and  fresh,  and  an  inhabitable  air 
in  the  house.  Without,  the  grounds  and  prospect 
were  in  princely  state  and  beauty. 

BeLLOSGUAKDO. — YlLLA   MONTANTO. 

August  6th,  1858. — We  came  to  this  delightful 
Villa  on  the  1st  of  August.     *     *     *     ^     *     * 

This  evening  there  has  been  a  superb  sunset.  At 
the  northwest,  over  the  mountains  was  a  wonderful 
cloud,  shaped  exactly  like  a  wing,  of  downy  gold 
and  purple  and  crinason  tints,  and  of  gigantic  size, 
as  one  might  fancy  an  archangel's  to  be.  A  truly 
feathery  iieeciness  pervaded  the  mighty  pinion.  As 
the  twilight  deepened,  storm-clouds  accumulated 
about  the  mountain,  and  presently  vivid  lightning 
flashed  beneath  the  wing,  which  still,  however, 
brooded  in  immovable  calm  over  all  the  tumult, 
like  the  Spirit  of  God  over  chaos.  In  contrast  to 
the  rage  and  confusion  of  the  elements  in  that 
quarter — toward  the  southeast,  opposite,  was  a 
broad,  golden  Peace,  which,  by  degrees,  seemed  to 
concentrate  and  bloom  into  a  large  star,  a  flower  of 
light  (as  I  have  heretofore  called  stars') — and  it 
gleamed,  undisturbed  and  unflickering,  like  the  eye 
of  a  seraph  ;  and  was  not  that  his  wing  on  the  other 
side  ? 

August  7th. — The  dawn  was  broken  by  a  violent 
wind,  which  sounded  like  the  ocean  in  fiercest  anger 


FLOEENCE.  ■  47?. 

TVe  seemed  not  on  the  crest  of  a  gentle  Yal  cVArno, 
but  on  the  shores  of  the  northern  seas.  Upon 
looking  out,  I  found  it  did  not  rain,  and  the  atmos- 
phere became  quiet  enough  after  breakfast  for  U. 
to  go  to  her  drawing  lesson  in  Florence  with  Miss 
Bracken. 

A  Magician's  Teeasures. 

August  11th. — To-day  Miss  Blagden  took  us  to 
see  Mr.  Kirkup,  the  antiquary,  artist,  and  magician. 
He  lives  directly  upon  the  Arno,  in  an  old  palace  of 
the  Knights  Templar.  He  is  of  the  age  of  the 
Wandering  Jew,  with  snowy,  silken  hair  aiid  drifting 
beard  ;  a  delicate,  elegant  figure,  handsome  features, 
and  fair,  taper  hands.  He  lives  with  only  a  tiny 
daughter,  a  little  dark-eyed  fairy,  just  fit  to  be  a 
daughter  of  a  mapjician.  She  was  dressed  in  white 
muslin,  and  so  delighted  to  see  visitors  that  she 
kept  up  a  continual  musical  laughter,  varied  with 
shrill  shouts,  as  she  played  about  us  with  her  kitten. 
The  kitten  was  very  pretty  and  in  wonderful  har- 
monj^  with  the  scene — a  kind  of  familiar  spirit  of 
Mr.  Kirkup.  There  were  two  large  apartments, 
filled  with  pictures,  books,  and  curiosities,  em- 
broidered with  tlie  dust  of  a  century.  The  gentle- 
man had  known  Byron  and  many  notable  persons^ 
of  course,  and  on  his  walls  are  portraits  of  famous 
people,  and  sketches  innumerable.  He  is  rich  in 
old  manuscripts  and  missals,  illuminated.     A  manu- 


474  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

script  of  tlie  Divina  Commedia  he  sliowed  Mr.  H. 
witli  great  pride,  and  I  peeped  at  it  too.  It  was  on 
fine  vellum,  delicately  written  in  black-letter  by  some 
learned  monk,  and  brilliantly  painted  witli  pure 
colors,  in  that  perfect  way  which  it  seems  hopeless 
to  try  to  imitate  now-a-clays.  The  unerring  finish 
of  these  miniatures  gives  an  idea  of  preternatural 
powers,  and  though  the  drawing  is  sometimes  in- 
correct, it  does  not  matter,  for  it  is  a  part  of  the 
character  of  illuminations  to  have  the  quaint  figures 
of  not  exact  anatomy,  just  as  stained  glass  becomes 
impertinent  and  vulgar,  if  one  finds  careful  academic 
rules  followed.  These  things  are  triumphs  of  color, 
not  of  form.  A  cathedral  window  must  look  like  a 
jewelled  ephod,  at  the  first  glance — a  bewildering 
blaze  of  splendor.  By  and  by,  with  earnest  looking, 
the  various  tints  unfold  themselves  into  blessed  faces 
and  shapes  of  rudest  lines,  or  rather  of  no  lines,  but 
bright  blurs  and  passionate  daubs  of  ruby,  sapphire, 
and  gold.  What  seemed  a  gem  becomes  an  im- 
possible foot  or  hand.  An  ecstasy  or  a  sadness  or  a 
devoutness  is  somehow  conveyed  into  the  expression 
of  the  features,  and  the  drapery  is  designed  for 
color  to  lavish  itself  upon.  When  we  hear  of  the 
angels  being  arrayed  in  light,  we  probably  fancy  a 
silver,  white  light.  But  it  is  no  doubt  light  broken 
into  the  seven  different  hues  rather,  and  these  stained 
windows  and  missal  paintings  shadow  those  rai- 
ments. Somewhere  in  England  I  saw  a  painted 
window  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  it  was  an  en* 


FLORENCE.  47o 

tire  failure,  for  lie  liad  designed  a  regular  picture  of 
some  scene.  Who  wislies  to  have  a  cathedral 
lighted  by  an  elaborated,  correct,  academical  com- 
position ?  We  do  not  feel  patient  to  observe  a  set 
purpose,  because  then  form  intrudes,  and  we  must 
have  prisms,  and,  in  the  oldest  colored  glass,  the 
forms  are  sharp-sided,  like  prisms.  Dear  me  !  how 
I  have  wandered  from  Mr.  Kirkup !  He  was 
very  curious  in  relics  of  Dante,  and  he  was  one  of 
those  two  persons  who  discovered  the  beautiful 
young  Dante  in  the  chapel  of  the  Bargello,  beneath 
the  plaster,  painted  by  Giotto,  and  he  showed  us  his 
original  tracing  from  it.  The  eye  is  wanting,  for  the 
workman  found  a  nail  driven  through  it,  and  instead 
of  filing  it  down,  or  gently  driving  it  in,  he  ruthlessly 
pulled  it  out,  and  the  eye  with  it.  But  it  is  a  deli- 
cately fine  profile  view  of  his  face,  with  an  aquiline 
nose,  a  mouth  of  pure  curves  and  infinite  melan- 
chol}^,  and  clear,  arched  brow — stately,  proud,  but 
sweet  also,  then.  The  lips  look  ready  to  curl  in 
scorn,  however,  and  it  is  a  vv  onderfully  haughty  face. 
Mr.  Kirkup  has  also  the  very  cast  taken  of  his  face 
after  death.  The  long,  heavy  bitterness  of  exile  has 
drawn  down  the  curves  of  his  mouth  in  the  plaster 
head.  The  cheeks  are  furrowed  with  pain  and  in- 
dignation. The  angelico  riso  of  the  divine  Beatrice 
has  not  been  able  to  smooth  out  of  his  countenance 
the  stern  anguish  of  his  heart  at  the  very  last  eveiv 
Perhaps  he  did  not  love  quite  enough  and  hated  too 
much,  and  so  his  fate  mastered  him,  and  not  he  hia 


476  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

fate.  It  seems  as  if  nations  made  a  point  of  putting 
all  their  greatest  men  to  despair — completely  deso- 
lating the  earth  for  them ;  and  then,  when  fame 
can  be  nothing  to  them,  when  they  can  no  longer 
suffer,  or  feel  joy  or  favor,  worldly  wrong  or  neglect, 
at  the  safe  distance  of  a  century  or  two,  behold 
how  thickly  fall  the  honors  !  How  the  heavens  are 
fretted  with  pinnacles  raised  to  their  memories,  and 
over  their  remains ;  their  remains  indeed !  How 
cathedrals  are  crowded  with  their  monuments !  how 
cities  fight  for  their  bones  !  how  Genius  prays  to  cut 
out  their  glory  in  marble,  or  emblazon  it  upon  can- 
vas, or  fresco  it  on  walls !  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
illustrious  were  obliged  to  compromise  the  matter, 
and  that  the  account  stood  in  this  wa}'- : 

For  a  given  quautity  of  posthumous  homage  I  must  submit 
to  pay, 

One  starved,  houseless  body — 
One  broken,  desolate  heart — 
A  life  wretclied  from  calumny — 
An  indefinite  amount  of  utter  neglect — 
A  total  want  of  appreciation — 
Imprisonment  in  cells  and  madhouses — 
Subjection  to  the  Torture,  and 
Dreary,  prolonged,  exile ! 

How  costly,  then,  is  earthly  renown  !  Often  just 
when  every  heart  and  purse  are  open,  the  kind 
angel  of  death  removes  the  sufferer  "beyond  the 
utmost  scope  and  vision  of  calamity."  There  ia 
doubtless  a  meaning   in   this,    and   it   is    best   for 


FLORENCE.  477 

the  victim,  tliongli  not  for  tliose  who  wrong  him, 
certainly. 

We  saw  a  portrait  of  Trelawny  in  his  eastern 
(^ress — a  handsome  man,  but  not  trust-inspiring  ; 
and  a  youthful  head  of  Leigh  Hunt,  and  many  pic- 
tures and  portraits  which  I  should  like  to  have 
known  about.  But  Mr.  Kirkup  is  excessively  deaf, 
and  I  could  not  shout  at  him,  nor  request  any  one 
else  to  scream  for  me.  There  was  a  bust  of  Machi- 
avelh,  a  horrid  head  and  face,  though  it  is  now  said 
he  has  been  much  traduced.  But  his  own  head  tra- 
duces him  worst  of  all. 

The  magician  had  also  a  mystical,  magical  con- 
trivance, with  a  lady  inside,  not  then  in  working- 
order,  reminding  me  of  the  conjurations  of  the 
wizard  Cornelius.  Mr,  Kirkup  is  also  a  magnet- 
izer,  and  his  little  Imogen  is  a  medium,  so  that  he 
converses  through  her  with  dead  emperors,  and  dis- 
covers how  they  have  been  poisoned  and  otherwise 
ill-treated  while  on  earth. 

August  13th. — To-day  I  went  to  Florence  alone, 
quite  early,  so  as  to  go  to  Santa  Trinita,  while  the 
light  was  good  for  Ghirlandaio's  frescoes.  Our 
villa  is  but  fifteen  minutes  from  the  city  gate.  I  had 
a  very  nice  chance ;  for  the  morning  sun  poured 
through  a  window  of  the  clerestory,  directly  into  the 
chapel.  But  the  frescoes  are  excessively  defaced. 
The  Death  of  St.  Francis  is  better  preserved  than 
the  rest,     I  saw  the  youth,  in  the  group  behind  the 


478  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

cbild  raised  from  the  dead,  who  was  called  "  II 
Bello"  on  account  of  his 'eminent  beautj.  In  the 
upper  compartment  there  are  other  portraits,  which 
I  could  not  well  see,  so  high  up  as  they  are. 

There  is  passionate  grief  and  also  grave  sorrow 
in  the  many  figures  round  the  dying  saint.  Some 
kneel  to  hiss  the  hands,  and  one  the  feet,  and  a 
group  of  solemn  priests  stand  at  the  head,  folded  in 
their  mantles,  grand  in  sentiment  and  expression. 
There  is  never  a  superfluous  line  in  the  old  master- 
pieces. It  is  all  a  matter  of  conscience,  and  a  perfect 
unity  of  purpose  commands  the  conception.  Here 
it  is  the  mystery  of  death.  The  ineffable  peace  that 
pervades  the  face  and  form  of  St.  Francis  is  draw- 
ing all  emotions  into  itself.  A  tiuly  awful  majesty 
wraps  the  group  at  the  head  of  the  bier.  So,  in  the 
composition  of  the  child  brought  to  life  by  the  saint 
appearing  in  the  heavens,  there  is  w^onder,  rever- 
ence, and  faith  in  all  who  are  present.  The  little 
child  rises  upon  its  death-bed  with  devout,  folded 
hands.  After  looking  at  the  scene  a  few  minutes,  a 
powerful  influence  com.es  from  it  which  Ghirlandaio 
left  there.  There  is  hope  and  joy  in  the  upturned 
faces,  but  they  have  become  so  dim  now,  that  there 
is  an  inconsolable  feeling  caused  hy  the  conviction 
that  they  will  soon  be  invisible !  How  can  it  be 
borne!  And  on  the  left  of  the  chapel,  the  damp 
has  nearly  obliterated  everything.    , 

I  looked  again  at  the  Magdalen  in  wood,  of  which 
I  have  written  before,  the  truly  repentant  Magdalen, 


FLORENCE.  479 

and  it  was  more  affecting  to  me  than  at  tlie  first 
seeing  even.  The  sincere  sorrow  of  the  eyes  pene- 
trates the  heart,  and  I  stood  a  long  time  drawn  to  it. 

Afterward,  at  the  Uffizzi,  I  got  so  very  tired  that 
I  can  recall  no  impressions,  except  from  a  small  copy 
in  crayon. which  a  young  artist  was  making  from  the 
large  Nativity,  by  Gherardo  della  Notte.  His  v^^ork 
had  the  finish  of  the  finest  engraving,  and  far  more 
richness.  He  was  evidently  making  a  model  for 
photography  or  engraving.  The  needle-point  of  his 
craj'on  effected  touches  as  delicate  as  those  of  a 
graving  instrument,  and  the  light  and  shade  were 
consummate.  The  darkness  had  the  depth  of  an 
abyss  in  it,  and  the  dazzle  of  light  from  the  Holy 
Child  was  truly  spiritual,  far  finer  in  effect  than  that 
of  ilie  original  picture.  The  young  man  was  thin  and 
pale,  as  if  he  were  himself  four-fifths  soul.  I  dare 
say  his  eyes  were  like  great  deep  nights,  but  I  did 
not  see  them.  Oh,  if  he  would  only  rescue  the  fading 
frescoes  for  mankind  with  his  pencil ! 

To  rest,  I  went  to  the  Church  of  Santo  Spirito,  so 
beautiful  with  its  majestic  colonnades  and  ruby 
lights  forever  burning  at  the  suiperb  altar  of  Floren- 
tine mosaic  ;  and  I  sat  there  in  peace  and  quiet  for 
an  hour.  Meanwhile  the  priests  came  in,  as  once 
before  when  I  was  there,  and  chanted  their  evening 
service,  but  I  could  not  see  them  from  my  seat. 
There  were  several  persons,  sa^dng  their  prayers, 
with  their  rosaries,  in  the  nave,  and  acolj'tes  were 
crossing  in  the  distance,  with  lamps  and  salvers  and 


480  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

copes,  but  witli  no  sound.  All  was  still,  except  the 
voices  of  tlie  chanters,  risins;  and  fallina;  like  waves 

5  O  CD 

in  a  summer  sea.  If  there  were  always  heart  and 
truth  in  these  monks  and  prelates,  real,  religious 
worship,  how  deep  would  be  our  emotions  during 
these  imposing  functions !  But  I  am  alwaj^s  sensible 
of  hollowness  and  emptiness  in  every  ceremony  I 
see ;  and  especially  with  the  ennui  and  inward  dis- 
gust of  the  priests  themselves,  who  seem  very 
anxious  to  get  through  the  endlessly  repeated  task, 
so  as  to  go  and  eat  and  drink  and  be  merry.  Yet 
there  are  doubtless  many  among  them  truly  devout. 
The  appearance  of  the  clergy  in  Florence  is  almost 
invariably  repulsive  and  gross,  and  they  are  said  to 
be  peculiarly  depraved.  They  are  mostly  fat,  with 
flabby  cheeks,  chins,  and  throats,  of  very  earthly 
aspect.  There  is  Nothing  to  compare  them  to  but 
hogs,  and  they  merely  need  to  stoop  upon  their 
hands  to  be  perfect  likenesses  of  swine,  so  that  the 
encounter  of  one  of  them  in  the  street  gives  one  a 
faint  sensation.  It  is  shocking  that  such  men  are  in 
holy  garb,  set  apart  for  the  constant  worship  of  God, 
and,  under  cover  of  superior  sanctity,  becoming  the 
most  corrupt  of  human  beings.  Such  blasphemy  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  seems  to  blot  out  the  sun,  and  poison 
the  air ;  but  I  think  there  must  be  good  persons 
enough  among  them  to  bear  witness — or  how  could 
these  monasteries  uphold  themselves  ?  "A  lie  can- 
not stand,"  says  our  great  philosopher. 

The  stately  architecture  of  Brunelleschi,  the  rich 


FLORENCE.  481 

gloom  and  repose,  tlie  saints  and  angels  in  marble 
and  picture,  all  lacked  something  to  me  to-day.  I 
conld  not  define  wliat,  but  I  came  awaj^  dissatisfied, 
and  walked  home  quite  miserable  about  priests  and 
the  Catholic  services.  I  slowly  mounted  JBello- 
sguardo,  and  mj  first  relief  v\^as  the  sudden  voice 
and  appearance  of  lovely  Miss  Bracken,  who  came 
hastening  after  me,  as  I  entered  the  lofty  gate  of 
our  Viha  Montauto.  By  this  time  I  could  not  talk 
to  Annette,  being  at  the  acme  of  my  fatigue  and 
headache;  but  it  was  pleasant  to  see  her  v,^hile 
others  were  talkino-  to  her. 


Dea WINGS  OP  Geeat  Mastees. 

September  2d. — To-day  we  have  been  to  Florence 
to  see  the  original  drawings  of  the  great  masters,  at 
the  Uffizzi,  These  have  an  immeasurable  interest  for 
me.  Among  Perugino's,  I  saw  the  first  sketches  of 
his  grand  Deposition  in  the  Pitti  Gallery.  The  only 
face  in  the  painting  whicli  I  do  not  entirely  like  is 
that  of  Christ;  but  in  the  drawing  it  is  beautiful, 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  is  not  comparable  to  the 
painted  one,  and  the  Madonna  and  St.  John  are 
alike  in  both.  There  was  a  divine  pen-and-ink 
drawing  of  St.  Catharine,  and  a  few  delicate  and 
careful  sketches  by  Fra  Angelico.  Among  Raphael's, 
were  first  ideas  of  a  group  in  his  fresco  of  Helio- 
dorus,  and  the  release  of  Peter  from  prison,  both 

21 


483  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

finished  pictures  in  the  Stanze  of  the  Yatican.  Also 
the  Madonna  of  the  Grand  Duke,  a  different  plan  Oi 
face  to  the  oil-painting,  but  the  same  in  every  other 
respect — the  Staffa  Madonna  also,  and  a  few  others, 
but  none  of  them  highly  elaborated,  like  many  I  saw 
in  Oxford,  England,  and  in  the  Louvre,  Paris.  There 
were  sketches  of  his  sister,  who  was  the  original 
type  of  many  of  his  Yirgin  Marys.  Of  Michel  An- 
gelo  were  some  carefully-finished  heads,  and  the 
whole  figure  of  Fortune,  delicately  wrought :  also 
parts  of  the  Last  Judgment — one  incredible  demon. 
Three  rooms  were  hung  with  these  precious  relics. 
About  two  thousand  are  put  up  at  one  time,  but 
there  are  twent}^  thousand  in  all.  Some  of  them 
are  so  highly  perfected  that  they  look  like  engrav- 
ings, and  some  are  monochromes,  touched  with 
white  chalk,  wonderfully  expressive  and  effective. 
I  felt  as  if  I  were  in  the  private  studios  of  these 
great  men,  and  a  confidante  of  their  secret  thoughts, 
while  looking  at  their  sketches,  made  only  for  them- 
selves. It  is  also  encouraging  to  less  potent  seig- 
niors and  signoras,  to  perceive  that  when  an  idea 
seized  so  consummate  a  master  as  Raphael,  the 
form  and  face  did  not  come  to  his  pencil  perfect,  at 
the  first  efi"ort,  but  was  scrawled  off  in  unaccepted 
lines  often,  like  attempts  of  meaner  mortals.  In 
this  kind  of  misery  one  loves  such  illustrious  com- 
pany, and  it  is  no  lack  of  charity  to  love  it.  After 
a  certain  time,  I  can  look  at  pencil  and  pen-and-ink 
drawings  not  a  moment  longer,  and  I  think  two  hours 


FLORENCE.  483 

ended  my  power  in  this  direction.  Then  I  went  to 
see  the  dying  Alexander.  In  all  the  heads  called 
Alexander  I  see  a  similarity,  and  I  think  I  kuovv^  the 
face  of  the  very  hero  now.  This  is  colossal,  and  a 
grand  expression  of  despair — the  head  thrown  back, 
with  rolled  eyes,  appealing  to  the  gods.  I  always 
look  at  what  they  call  the  authentic  head  of  Plato, 
in  the  Hall  of  Inscriptions.  I  gaze  till  I  can  see 
nothing,  and  close  my  eyes  and  then  gaze  again. 
It  is  so  wonderful  that  I  really  see  Plato,  that  I  can 
neyer  be  satisfied  with  looking.  I  think  a  drawing 
of  him  that  I  once  made  from  an  engraving  is  this 
same  head.  There  is  refinement,  refinement  of  the 
highest  civilization  and  delicacy,  and  an  imaginative 
intellect  in  every  line,  but  not  exactly  the  certainty 
of  a  keen  understanding  in  the  mouth.  This  want 
of  strength,  however,  may  be  owing  to  the  cause  I 
heretofore  suggested. 

Bacchus,  ever  fair  and  young,  stands  in  the  centre 
of  the  same  room,  the  loveliest,  gladdest,  gentlest 
smile  of  all-bounteous  Nature  that  was  ever  em- 
bodied. The  grace,  the  onward  movement,  the 
sweetness,  the  waving  lines,  like  sunny  fields  of 
corn  swept  over  by  a  southwestern  breeze,  radiant 
with  promise  of  plenty — the  light  step  of  the  feet— 
the  loving  ease  with  which  "the  beautiful  figure  rests 
upon  the  faun  Ampelos,  in  a  charming  nonchalance 
and  repose  (characteristic  of  the  Olympian  family 
always,  when  properly  rendered) — the  benignity  of 
the  brow,  and  delicacy  of  the  features,  render  this 


i84  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

THE  Bacclius.  Mr.  Gibson's,  at  Eome,  is  so  inferior 
that  it  is  not  at  all  worth  while  for  him  to  have  done 
it.  For,  though  Mr.  Gibson's  is  a  perfect  form,  it  is 
evicleutlj  not  a  portrait  of  the  god,  like  this.  The 
sculptor  of  this  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  genial  Power 
as  he  passed  in  the  purple  sunshine  of  the  Attic 
plains,  and  crystallized  him  forever  in  stone,  in 
which  he  pauses,  and  yet  ever  seems  to  move  on, 
with  an  immortality  of  gay,  soft  life.  It  is  astonish- 
ing how  the  expression  is  sensuous  as  Na,ture,  and 
yet  entirel}^  free  from  earthliness.  Bacchus  here 
suggests  the  idea  of  the  Paradise  in  which  man  was 
iirst  placed,  before  there  had  been  any  blight  or 
decay  or  death,  and  when  the  atmosphere  was  so 
pure  that  angels  alighted  for  social  converse,  and 
"  the  voice  of  God  walked  in  the  cool  of  the  garden." 
He  is  indeed  the  divine  Dionysus,  coming  from  the 
plains  of  far  Asia,  where  he  has  been  civilizing  the 
nations ;  for  he  is  not  guilty  of  the  misused  grape. 
The  Apollo,  the  Minerva,  the  Mercury,  the  Venus, 
and  now  the  Bacchus  of  the  Greek  Olympus  and  the 
Juno,  I  have  seen  already ;  and  I  have  seen  grand 
Joves,  but  not  yet  a  Jove  that  commands  my  mind. 
I  do  not  suppose,  however,  that  one  could  ever  be 
satisfied  with  a  Jupiter.  I  wish  I  had  seen  that  of 
Phidias.  ^When  the  command  was  given  to  make  no 
graven  image  of  the  Lord  God,  it  might  have  been 
"  thou  canst  not"  instead  of  "  thou  slialt  not." 

On   our  return   toward   the   Porta   Romana,  we 
went  into  the  Museum  of  Natural  History  to  see  the 


FLORENCE.  485 

Tribune  of  Galileo,  a  sort  of  temple  erected  to  Gali- 
leo by  the  present  Grand  Duke  Leopold — Galileo's 
heart  being  long  ago  thoroughly  broken.  In  the 
centre  of  a  circular  apse  stands  his  colossal  statue, 
and  around  him  in  niches  are  busts  of  his  pupils, 
and  glass  cases  of  his  instruments ;  and  one  of  his 
fingers,  pointing  upward,  is  preserved  in  a  crystal 
vase.  Another  of  his  fingers  is  in  the  Laurentine 
Library.  How  little  he  dreamed,  when  he  sat  in 
prison,  that  even  his  fingers  would  become  precious 
relics  for  posterity !  But  I  wish  he  had  kept  firm, 
and  not  denied  the  truth  he  had  discovered.  That 
is  an  endless  grief  to  me.  The  lunettes  round  the 
whole  temple  are  painted  in  fresco,  with  incidents 
of  his  life,  and  the  walls  and  floor  are  inlaid  with 
precious  marbles  and  precious  gems,  and  the  white 
marble  pilasters  are  sculptured  with  his  discoveries 
and  inventions.  The  very  telescopes  are  there  with 
which  he  searched  for  and  found  stars.  Galileo  is 
not  handsome,  but  has.  a  tower  of  a  head.  Near  the 
entrance,  his  Grand  Grace  has  placed  himself  in 
marble,  and  several  others  of  the  ducal  family  keep 
him  in  countenance,  and  a  very  ugly  countenance  it 
is.  He  looks  to  have  intellect,  but  a  fearfully  cabeza 
dura,  and  he  has  an  unpardonable  under-jaw^ 

I  retired  to  the  Boboli  Gardens  to  sit  till  toward 
sunset ;  and  I  had  a  peaceful  and  refreshing  session 
in  those  roj-al  shades.  I  found  a  secluded  stone 
couch  near  the  lake,  where  I  could  see  the  majestic 
and  unamiable  swans,  who  were  again  in  anger,  and 


436  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

growling  at  all  wlio  went  empty-handed  to  tlie  brink 
of  tlie  water.  Anger  made  tliem  very  superb — 
striking  out  with  their  whitest  wings,  and  proudly 
rearing  their  heads  in  scorn.  Their  voices,  however, 
broke  the  charm,  just  as  the  peacock's  scream  dims 
the  rainbow  splendors  of  his  tail,  so  wonderfully 
exact  is  the  poise  of  checks  and  balances  in  the 
Divine  economy.  The  nightingale  in  his  slaty  gray 
coat  needs  no  purple  and  gold  to  add  to  the  effect 
of  his  melodious  sorrow.  Over  the  delicious  dulci- 
mer in  his  breast  he  wraps  a  twilight  mantle,  and  no 
one  asks  for  a  coat  of  many  colors  for  him.  He 
warbles  forth-  the  one  divine  plaint,  just  as  from 
the  gloom  of  the  Sistine  rises  the  penetrating  single 
voice  of  tuneful  prayer  for  pity.  His  choral  power 
is  his  beauty.  And  the  skylark  might  say,  "  If  you 
would  have  the  fire  of  the  ruby,  the  prismatic  light 
of  the  diamond,  the  sunshine  of  the  topaz,  and  the 
changing  lustre  of  the  opal,  do  not  look  at  me ;  but 
shut  your  eyes,  and  I  will  pour  from  the  cunning- 
crucible  of  my  throat  such  a  gush  of  liquid  gems  as 
no  alchymist  ever  melted  in  his  crucible.  You  may 
look  at  the  humming-bird,  for  he  wears  his  jewels 
woven  into  a  jacket.  I  transmute  mine  into  raptures 
of  thanksgiving  and  praise,  wiiich  make  the  air  il- 
lustrious and  rich ;  but  we  both,  in  our  several  way, 
bear  witness  to  the  Father."  And  the  skylark  is 
dressed  in  brown. 

In  about  an  hour  the  clouds  gathered  over  the  hot 
sun,  and  I  set  forth  for  Montanto.      T  thought  I 


FLORENCE.  487 

would  come  home  a  shorter  way  than  my  usual  route, 
and  so  I  went  astray,  and,  being  enclosed  in  high 
walls  for  a  long  distance,  I  could  not  see  where  I 
was,  till  suddenly,  glancing  through  an  opening,  I 
found  myself  skurrying  off  to  the  Apennines,  entirely 
wide  from  our  villa.  For  three  hours  I  wandered, 
wearily,  wearil}^  and  finally  took  the  right  turn.  I 
have  long  been  lying  down  in  Ada's  study,  upon  a 
sofa  which  commands  a  distant  view  from  the  case- 
ment, opening  to  the  floor.  The  beautiful  hills, 
crowned  with  castles  and  villas,  wave  along  the 
horizon,  and  as  I  was  looking,  suddenly  a  great 
piece  of  rainbow  dropped  down  among  them.  What 
a  land !  where  rainbows  are  broken  w^,  and  tossed 
among  the  mountains  and  valleys,  just  for  beauty. 
In  such  a  vast  expanse  of  view  as  we  have  here, 
there  are  many  private  little  showers  going  on  round 
the  heights,  while  the  sun  is  shining,  and  rainbows 
may  often  be  found  among  them  by  the  careful 
watcher. 

September  10th. — To-day  Ada  and  I  went  to  Flor- 
ence. We  took  refuge  for  a  while  in  Santo  Spirito, 
always  so  desirable  to  see,  for  the  sake  of  resting. 
The  stately  pillared  nave,  and  lofty  side-aisles,  car- 
ried all  round  the  apse  in  a  lovely  bewilderment  of 
arches  and  columns,  and  all  in  s]3herical  order,  are 
noble  proofs  of  the  poetical  genius  of  the  great 
Brunelleschi.  The  high  altar  is  a  glorious  centre  of 
the  wheel  of  beauty.      There  was  a  Function  going 


488  irOTES  IX  ITALY. 

on  before  one  of  the  side  chapels — the  burial-ser- 
vice of  a  child.  The  coffin  was  covered  with  a  white 
satin  pall,  embroidered  with  purple  and  gold.  The 
officiating  priests  were  in  robes  of  white  satin 
and  gold,  and  the  altar  was  alight  with  candles,  be- 
sides those  borne  by  young  boys  in  white  tunics. 
This  scene  in  the  aisle  was  a  splendid  picture  in  the 
soft  gloom  of  the  church ;  and  when  the  organ  burst 
forth  in  a  kind  of  tender  rapture,  rolling  pearly 
waves  of  harmony  along  the  large  spaces,  and  filling 
the  dome  with  the  foam  and  spray  of  interlacing 
measures,  it  seemed  as  if  angels  Avere  welcoming  the 
young  child  to  heaven. 

"We  walked  round  the  Tribune  to  look  at  the 
pictures  in  the  chapels,  and  saAV  a  wonderful  Peru- 
gino,  which  I  had  not  discovered  before.  What 
a  happiness!  It  seemed  to  be  the  Madonna  ap- 
pearing to  St.  Domenic,  who  sits  reading  at  a  table, 
and  starts  and  lifts  his  hands  in  an  ecstasj^  of 
worship  at  the  vision.  Mary  stands  with  a  great 
majesty  and  pensiveness,  her  head  slightly  bent, 
attended  by  a  group  of  angels.  It  has  been  told  me 
that  there  is  deeper  feeling  in  the  Sienese  school 
than  is  found  in  Perugino !  I  should  like  to  see 
whether  it  be  so. 

September  11th. — This  evening  we  went  to  a  re- 
ception at  the  Villa  Brichieri,  to  meet  the  British 
Minister,  the  Honorable  Mr.  Lyons,  son  of  Lord 
Lyons,  Admiral  at  the   Crimea ;  and  a  Greek  gen- 


FLORENCE.  489 

tleman  and  lady.  The  lady  was  a  queenly  woman, 
witli  glorions  eyes  and  brow,  and  sinning  black 
hair,  curling,  from  a  coronet  of  braids,  down  her 
cheeks,  like  flexible  paragon  (a  brilliant  black  pietra 
dura).  Her  husband  was  also  very  handsome — 
having  the  same  eyes,  like  deepest  night,  with  stars 
in  the  abysses.  Oriental  eyes  they  must  be,  for  the 
like  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  Occident.  I  did  not 
talk  with  them,  but  with  the  Honorable  Mr.  Lyons, 
who  was  very  agreeable,  and  amiable,  and  genial. 
Mr.  H.  talked  with  the  Greeks;  but  I  believe  he 
did  not  find  them  Pericles  and  Aspasia  in  intellect. 

FlESOLE. 

September  14th. — To-day  I  drove  to  Eiesole  with 
x^da  and  the  children.  Fiesole  is  the  "  Cradle  of 
Florence,"  and  the  birthplace  of  Fra  Angelico. 
We  passed  out  of  the  Porta  a  Piuti,  and  drove  on 
till  we  arrived  at  the  Church  and  Convent  of  St, 
Domenic,  into  which  we  hastened  to  see  a  picture  by 
the  an^relic  Friar  in  the  Choir.  We  were  well  re- 
warded,  for  we  found  it  one  of  his  divinest  Madonnas ; 
indeed,  by  far  the  most  beautiful  of  any  Madonna  I 
have  seen  by  him.  She  is  enthroned,  with  the  infant 
Christ,  and  Domenican  saints  stand  on  each  side, 
and  a  wreath  of  angels  surrounds  her  throne.  The 
colors  are  much  dimmed,^ perhaps  by  dust,  but  the 
attitude,  expression,  and  loveliness  remain.  XJ. 
thought  it  the  most  celestial  Madonna  she  had  evei 

21* 


490  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

seen  by  any  artist.  It  has  ineffable  grace  aucl  dig- 
nity, and  a  gentle  pensiveness  that  is  irresistibly 
j)athetic.  A  young  monk  nnveiled  the  picture  for  ns. 
He  was  very  courteous,  and  had  an  air  of  unusual 
goodness  and  sincerity.  He  is  one  of  those  who 
bear  witness.  As  a  matter  of  course,  I  offered  him 
a  fee  for  his  trouble,  but  he  made  a  sad  and  decided 
gesture  of  refusal,  that  was  very  surprising  and  re- 
markable ;  for  it  was  impossible  to  gainsay  him,  and 
I  felt  embarrassed  that  I  had  even  thought  of  the 
gold  that  perishes,  in  the  presence  of  the  heavenly 
picture  and  the  holy  youth.  I  wish  I  knew  his 
history. 

"We  then  climbed  up  to  the  mountain  city,  along 
perfect  roads,  smooth  as  marble,  and  winding  as 
commodiously  as  possible.  This  admirable  road 
from  the  Porta  a  Pinti  was  made  by  money  accumu- 
lated from  the  sale  of  titles  of  nobility.  The  Fesu- 
lans  have  a  Book  of  Gold,  in  which,  very  foolish 
people  get  their  names  and  bought  titles  inscribed 
for  three  or  four  hundred  pounds  each !  and  even 
Englishmen  have  purchased  ghostly  dukedoms  aud 
earldoms  and  baronetcies  there  !  As  neither  revenue 
nor  honor  nor  long  descent  can  be  bought  too,  it  is 
an  empty  farce  indeed.  But  the  consequence  of 
this  human  folly  is  a  superb  road.  In  a  little  more 
than  an  hour  we  drove  into  the  piazza  of  Fiesole. 
Florence  razed  her  mother  city  to  the  ground  after 
she  grew  up,  and  why — I  cannot  tell ;  but  all  that 
now  remains  is  this  piazza  and  the  Duomo,  the  Hall 


FLORENCE.  491 

of  tlie  Poclesta,  and  a  college.  On  a  lofty  eminence 
once  stood  tlie  Acropolis  ;  and  on  its  site  is  a  con- 
vent. It  is  a  conical  hill,  a  thousand  feet  above 
Florence,  and  exceedingly  symmetrical,  as  we  see  it 
from  the  Villa  Montanto. 

We  first  visited  the  Duomo,  a  curious,  rude  old 
cathedral,  with  a  crypt  beneath,  and  a  choir  above 
the  main  church.  The  funniest  old  man  in  the 
world  came  to  show  us  the  wonders  of  his  temple. 
I  think  he  could  never  have  been  young,  and  that 
he  never  can  die.  Such  a  thoroughly  embalmed  old 
man  (embalmed  while  alive),  and  one  so  sparkling 
with  gleeful  fire,  and  cheerful,  crackling  little  flames, 
could  nowhere  else  be  seen.  His  small  eyes  shot 
sparks  as  from  electric  jars.  He  bustled  and  rustled 
about  witliout  a  moment's  rest,  and  he  had  no  sooner 
attracted  our  eyes  to  one  thing  than  he  was  off, 
calling  "Venga,"  "  Yenga,"  "Yenga,"  with  the 
utmost  vividness  and  rapidity  of  utterance,  to  some- 
thing else.  Now  he  darted  to  a  work  of  Mino  da 
Fiesole,  whicli  we  would  gladly  have  examined ;  but 
the  moment  we  got  to  it  lie  hurried  us  to  a  column 
of  the  Koman  period ;  and  then  snatched  us  away 
to  a  font,  once  in  the  Temple  of  Bacchus,  wtich.  I 
desired  to  investigate  especially,  but  the  grass- 
hopper instantly  hopped  over* to  a  fresco  of  Saint 
Romulus.  It  was  the  queerest  annoyance  and  the 
most  amusing  that  ever  Avas,  and  he  was  himself  the 
greatest  curiosity  and  the  ancientest  thing  in  all  the 
city.     The  best  work  of  art  I  saw  was  a  marble  bust 


493  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

by  Mino,  of  Bisliop  Salutati.  After  trying  to  see  the 
cathedral,  for  the  little  grig  prevented  any  reposeful 
or  satisfactory  enjoyment  of  it,  we  descended  a  road 
behind  it  to  find  the  well-preserved  line  of  oldest 
Etruscan  ^vall.  Enormous  blocks  of  stone  of  various 
sizes,  but  of  parallelepiped  form,  compose  the  wall, 
and  we  climbed  up  and  gathered  some  ivy  from  it 
for  a  memorial.  On  this  north  side  of  the  city  is 
the  valley  of  the  Mugnone,  well  cultivated.  On  the 
south  spreads  the  lovely  Val  d'Arno,  in  which  Flor- 
ence reposes,  and  we  look  along  the  course  of  the 
river  to  the  Gonfolina  gorge.  Beyond  rise  the  hills 
and  mountains.  The  day  was  transcendent,  and  we 
saw  the  view  in  the  best  light  and  atmosphere — 

"  The  haughty  day- 
Filled  her  blue  urn  with  fire," — 

and  the  heights  were  wrapped  in  veils  of  transparent 
illusion,  just  to  be  a  little  magical  and  mystical, 
without  being  at  all  hidden,  and  the  vines  and  fig- 
trees  and  pale  olives  and  waving  corn  made  the 
sumptuous  plain  laugh  with  plenty  and  gladness  and 
peace,  which  yet,  in  Italy,  is  no  gladness  nor  peace. 
The  wonderful  song  that  Byron  sings  of  Greece,  be- 
ginning, 

"  He  that  hath  bent  him  o'er  the  dead," 

may  be  sung  of  Italy  as  well.  An  inward  persua- 
sion that  the  fairness  we  see  is  not  genuine  pros- 
perity and  joy,  comes  at  every  turn  in  this  enchant- 


FLORENCE.  493 

ing  country.  There  is  no  "  sober  certainty  of  bliss" 
here.  Hoav  mysterious  are  these  old  civilizations, 
which  culminate  and  vanish,  leaving  ruin,  desolation, 
and  emptiness,  shells  of  dead  beauty,  all  over  the 
earth  !  It  is  said  that  England  has  now  commenced 
her  downward  course  ;  but  I  believe  that  England 
is  only  changing  her  course.  Hitherto,  it  seems  as 
if  there  had  indeed  been  cause  enough  for  decay 
and  for  bitter  ashes  in  place  of  rich  pulp  ;  because 
sin  has  gnawed  at  the  heart  of  each  empire's  glory, 
as  a  worm  at  the  heart  of  the  flower  or  the  fruit. 
It  is  the  lack  of  love,  of  St.  Paul's  charity,  which  is 
the  difficulty.  Cannot  a  nation  be  based  on  that 
and  live  forever  ?  America  might  try  it,  but  has 
made  no  sign  yet.  Italy,  however,  is  not  dead — 
only  faint,  and  Italy  alone  is  thoroughl}^  civilized 
through  and  through,  since  immemorial  ages.  This 
I  deeply  feel,  now  tliat  I  am  here  ;  but  something 
has  soiled  it.  In  its  cities,  especially,  I  have  an 
irrepressible  desire  to  ivasli  them  clean,  and  make 
them  comfortable  and  fresh.  I  wish  to  have  ever}^ 
stone  scoured  ;  but  I  am  afraid  it  is  the  corruptions 
of  the  Roman  Church  which  have  defiled  the  land, 
and  that  water  cannot  purify  it.  It  is  sufl'ering 
under  an  incubus. 

Michel  Angelo's  Maebles. 

September  16th. — We  went  to  Florence  this  fine 
day,  and  visited  San  Lorenzo  to  see  the  marbles 


494  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

of  Michel  Angelo.  I  spent  nearly  a  wliole  liotir  is 
looking  at  Lorenzo  cli  Medici.  I  cannot  nnderstand 
wlij  the  figures  at  his  feet  are  called  Morning  and 
Evening.  I  saw,  at  Lombardi's,  Michel  Angelo's 
original  sketch  of  the  Morning,  in  which  the  face  is 
more  finished  than  in  the  marble,  so  that  perhaps 
the  unfinished  state  was  not  designed  in  either  Day 
or  Morning.  Day  has  the  effect  of  a  dazzling  sun 
rising,  too  bright  to  look  at  steadily  ;  and  I  wonder 
whether  this  was  the  purpose  of  the  sculptor.  But 
no  one  will  ever  know,  and  it  is  very  puzzling  ;  for 
Evening  and  Night  are  entirely  completed,  yet  one 
would  suppose  they  would  be  more  indistinct  than 
Morning  and  Day,  instead  of  less  so.  Michel-  An- 
gelo will  never  speak,  and  the  marble  is  forever 
dumb,  and  we  may  as  well  submit  to  the  facts. 

From  this  chapel  we  went  to  the  Laurentian 
Library,  which  is  over  the  cloisters.  We  were 
guided  to  a  Vestibule,  planned  by  Michel  Angelo, 
in  which  a  staircase  leads  up  into  the  Library.  It 
was  much  smaller  than  I  expected,  but  yet  big 
enough  to  hold  the  nine  or  ten  thousand  precious 
manuscripts  deposited  there.  It  is  a  long  apart- 
ment, with  a  great  many  windows  on  each  side, 
painted  in  bright  arabesques.  The  ceiling  is  carved 
in  oak,  I  think — as  it  is  brown — though  I  should 
suppose  it  would  be  stone  for  safety,  and  the  pave- 
ment is  a  mosaic  of  red,  brown,' and  yellow  terra- 
cotta. A  broad  aisle  in  the  centre  runs  the  whole 
length,   between   long,   pew-like  seats,  with  desks, 


FLORENCE.  495 

upon  wliicli  tlie  manuscripts  are  chained.  In  the 
aisle  are  tables  at  intervals,  at  man}'  of  which  men 
were  copjang  manuscripts.  We  were  first  shown 
the  earliest  manuscripts  of  the  Pandects  of  Justi- 
nian, in  clear,  large  characters.  It  was  the  very 
copy  which  had  been  held  in  such  exceeding  ven- 
eration bj^  the  Pisaus,  who  burnt  tapers  before  it  as 
before  the  Host,  when  it  was  solemnly  visited  by 
the  magistracy  from  time  to  time.  We  saw  also, 
in  the  same  case,  the  famous  earliest  manuscript  of 
Virgil;  and  the  Decameron,  much  interlined,  with 
many  notes  on  the  margin ;  Cicero's  epistles,  copied 
l)y  Petrarch  ;  Aristotle,  in  a  dozen  folios  ;  Horatius 
Placcus,  with  an  autograph  of  Petrarch,  showing  it 
to  have  been  his  property;  an  old  Evangel  from 
Trebizond,  and  beautiful  colored  contemporaneous 
portraits  of  Petrarch  and  Laura,  as  illuminations  in 
the  Canzoniere.  Laura  is  beautiful,  with  a  very 
stately  head,  and  proud,  refined  expression,  entirely 
satisfactory.  Opening  from  the  Library,  is  a  Eotun- 
da,  surrounded  by  glass  cases,  in  which  are  placed 
all  the  first  books  printed  after  the  invention  of 
printing — Plato,  Aristotle,  Cicero,  Horace,  and  all 
the  other  classics  in  all  languages.  Many  of  the 
manuscripts  were  richly  illuminated  ;  and  we  saw  the 
first  map  by  Ptolemy,  with  ultra-marine  seas,  of  the 
Eastern  Hemisphere,  then  the  whole  of  the  known 
w^orld.  This  collection  is  the  most  valuable  there  is, 
except  that  of  the  Yatican.  But  we  ought  to  have 
had  some  one  with  us  who  could  command  the  exhi- 


496  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

bition  of  all  the  chief  treasures,  for  the  custode  did 
not  show  us  even  what  is  usually  seen,  and  I  hope 
we  shall  go  again  under  better  auspices. 

In  the  evening,  the  Greek  lady  called  with  her 
little  daughter  and  a  Signore  Yilleri,  and  v/hen  I  took 
the  child's  hand  and  said,  "  Tell  me  your  name,  that 
we  may  talk  together,"  she  replied,  "  Aspasia !"  As 
we  were  sitting  out  in  the  moonlight,  on  the  terrace 
that  commands  the  Yal  d'Arno,  in  a  kind  of  poetic 
dream,  this  name  took  me  still  more  out  of  prosaic 
life.  "Were  we  on  the  Acropolis  of  Athens  ?  The 
comet  ax3peai-ed  in  the  northwest,  in  abysses  of  blue 
pearl,  as  I  held  little  Aspasia's  hand. 

September  20th. — To-day  was  my  last  visit  to  the 
Uffizzi.  I  took  my  sketch-book  to  draw  an  outline 
of  Plato  ;  but  my  pencil  had  no  point  at  all,  and  we 
had  not  a  penknife,  so  I  could  do  nothing.  I  looked 
so  long  at  the  head  that  I  see  it  distinctly  in  my 
mind,  and  I  hope  to  draw  it  from  memory  in  future. 

There  were  in  the  Gallery  tAvo  Englishmen,  one  a 
tall  red-faced  squire  and  fox-hunter,  I  fancy,  with  a 
loud,  lumbering  voice,  like  a  sledge-hammer,  slightly 
modulated  by  a  certain  amount  of  civilization  :  the 
other  a  small,  slender,  delicately  organized,  polished, 
trim,  regular-featured,  conceited,  cautious  gentleman, 
with  silver  hair,  resembling  a  shining  little  minnow 
in  the  wake  of  a  porpoise.  The  porpoise  was  the 
introducer  of  the  minnow  to  the  wonders  of  art  before 
them,   and  it  was  a  rare  spectacle   to  see  how  he 


FLOBENGE.  49'^ 

managecl  it.  He  plainly  had  r.o  perception  of  art  at 
allj  but  lie  was  quite  sure  lie  had,  and  that  he  was 
an  accomplished  connoisseur,  as  he  knew  the  names 
and  reputations  of  the  piciiires.  He  desired  a  large 
audience,  or  more  exacth',  he  felt  that  he  deserved 
one,  and  looked  about  to  observe  who  heard  his 
remarks,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Listen  all  who  can." 
To  all  his  dogmatical  assertions  in  heavy  sledgy 
voice,  the  silver  minnow  responded  in  thin  tones  of 
assent,  holding  his  perfectly  brushed  hat  on  his  bent 
thumb,  with  consummate  skill  and  nicety.  Such  a 
precise,  immaculate  little  nonentity  of  a  person !  for 
there  was  no  intellect  in  his  face — he  was  only  well 
arranged  ;  but  the  small  parlor  of  his  mind  was  in 
exact  order,  and  all  its  minute  objects  of  veiiu  laid 
out  to  the  best  advantage.  The  two  friends  con- 
sulted together  about  going  to  the  Pitti.  The  silver 
minnoAv  said  to  the  red  porpoise,  in  his  fine,  wee 
voice,  "  It  confuses  one  to  see  too  many  things  at 
once."  "  It  DOES  so,"  replied  the  other  in  heavy 
boulder-tones.  They  were  then  in  the  Tribune,  and 
they  were  extremely  diverting,  yet  there  was  so  much 
for  us  to  see  that  I  could  not  spend  &t\j  more  time 
observing  them. 

September  27th. — I  drove  to  Florence  with  Miss 
Blagden  and  Annette,  and  met  the  rest  of  us  in  the 
Duoino.  Going  in  without  intending  to  see  the 
Cathedral,  it  had  an  effect  of  vastness  and  majesty. 
"We  all  sat  down  near  the  high  altar  to  enjoy  tlie 


498  N0TE8  IN  ITALY. 

painted  windows  of  the  transepts  and  Tribune,  so 
superb  as  they  are.  Tlie  pietra  serena  of  which  the 
interior  of  the  bnilding  is  made,  sets  off  the  glory  of 
the  colors  admirablj'.  A  clmrch  that  has  such  lights 
need  not  be  encrusted  with  varied  marbles.  In  this 
last  visit  to  it,  I  seemed  to  comprehend  it  better 
than  ever  before. 

To-day  we  chose  a  Florentine  mosaic  brooch,  a 
brilliant  bird  pecking  at  a  cherry.  The  cherries  are 
red  and  white  chalcedonies,  and  the  bird  is  made  np 
of  lapis-lazuli,  malachite,  sardonyx,  and  coralline. 
After  this  very  pretty  shopping  we  parted,  and  tJ. 
and  I  took  a  carriage  and  drove  to  San  Miniato.  It 
w^as  toward  sunset,  and  when  we  arrived  at  the 
summit,  by  the  aid  of  a  donkey  fastened  to  our 
horses,  I  was  enchanted  with  the  view  of  Florence, 
which  is  better  than  any  other.  The  Duomo,  Cam- 
panile, and  Tower  of  Palazzo  Yecchio,  and  the 
delicate  Badia,  take  a  beautiful  relation  to  one 
another,  grouping  themselves  in  stately  wise.  I  saw 
the  grand  proportions  of  the  Duomo  to  advantage 
for  the  first  time,  and  I  have  not  before  confessed  to 
myself  that  it  is  the  grandest  Dome  in  the  world. 
The  fair  campanile  rose  like  a  spirit  at  its  side — or 
as  Miss  Blagden  so  happily  said,  "  like  the  lovely 
Una  by  the  side  of  her  Lions  ;"  and  the  Palazzo  Yec- 
chio asserted  its  supremacy  entirely.  Far  off  the 
Arno  gleamed  between  wooded  banks,  winding  off 
to  the  mountains,  which  were  now  becoming  ame- 
thystine in  hue.     The  rows  of  straight,  solemn,  dark 


FLORENCE.  409 

cypresses,  forming  tlie  avenue  of  San  Agostino,  made 
rich  contrast  to  the  Val  d'Arno's  bright  level  beauty, 
and  the  undulating  hills  on  the  horizon.  So  glorious 
was  this  picture,  that  we  could  not  bear  to  go  into 
the  church,  and  lose  its  changes.  The  fagade  is 
covered  with  marbles,  and  it  is  very  noble  and  lofty 
within,  having  three  pianos,  a  crypt,  a  middle  floor, 
and  an  upper  Tribune  or  apse,  like  the  old  Duomo  of 
Fiesole.  In  the  apse  is  a  pulpit,  elaborately  carved, 
and  there  is  cinque-cento  work  all  about  the  gallery. 
Ancient  frescoes  are  fading  and  crumbling  on  the 
walls,  and  I  discerned  some  grand  old  saints  fast 
vanishing  away,  alas  !  alas  !  and  alas  !  Workmen 
filled  the  nave,  and  it  ^vas  in  so  great  confusion,  that 
we  had  no  comfort  in  looking  at  anything,  and  so  we 
returned  to  the  prospect,  and  watched  the  pomp  of 
the  sunsetting,  though  not  to  the  end ;  because 
we  were  obliged  to  come  home  to  Bellosguardo 
before  dusk. 


rv. 

RETUENING  TO  EOME. 

SIENA. 

On  tlie  1st  of  October  we  left  the  Yilla  Montanto 
for  Siena,  and  arrived  at  this  Aquila  Nera  in  about 
three  hours  by  raiL  "We  saw  a  square  castle  of  the 
middle  ages,  and  we  passed  Certaldo,  the  birthplace 
of  Boccaccio,  where  he  lived  most  of  his  life. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Story  called  immediately  to  see  us, 
and  drove  us  about  the  city,  to  the  Cathedral,  and  to 
the  picturesque  Palazzo  Pubblico,  with  its  remark- 
able tower,  which  Mr.  Story  prefers  to  that  of  Flor- 
ence. The  piazza  in  which  it  stands  is  verj^  large 
and  hollow,  like  a  scallop-shell,  Avith  a  sculptured 
fountain  in  its  midst.  There  were  endless  palaces 
of  the  Piccolomini,  that  family  being  the  principal 
one  of  Siena.  After  our  pleasant  excursion,  we 
found  an  apartment  at  Manini's,  and  established 
ourselves  there  in  the  afternoon. 

On  the  3d  October  we  spent  the  ^lay  delightfully 
at  Mr.  Story's  villa.  We  wandered  through  a  vine- 
yard, festooned  with  luscious  grapes,  and  we  gazed 
into  a  deep  well,  with  trailing  maiden-hair  draping 


RETURNING   TO  ROME— SIENA.  501 

the  rough  stones  with  its  delicate  beauty;  arid  in 
the  evening,  as  we  sat  looking  down  an  avenue  of 
dark  cypresses  to  the  clear  sky  beyond,  the  comet 
suddenly  appeared,  more  distinctly  and  brilliantly 
than  we  had  seen  it  before,  even  at  Montauto.  It 
shone  in  the  deep  sapphire  depths  of  space  with  an 
awful  splendor. 

On  the  4th  we  visited  the  Cathedral  for  awhile, 
and  found  it  gorgeous  inside,  entirely  inlaid  with 
black,  white,  and  red  marbles,  and  filled  with  sculp- 
tures at  every  point.  The  pavement  is  of  black, 
white,  and  purple  marbles  also,  and  ornamented 
with  the  finest  designs  in  a  sort  of  niello  style — 
sibyls,  prophets,  saints,  events  of  the  Old  Testament, 
and  symbolical  subjects,  each  subject  enclosed  in 
exquisite  borders  of  great  A'ariety.  Sometimes  they 
were  arabesques  and  leaves  onlj^ — sometimes  birds, 
griffins,  horses,  lions,  sphynxes,  and  flowers.  The 
stalls  of  the  apse  are  delicately  carved,  and  the 
backs  of  the  tabernacles  are  inlaid  with  two  shades 
of  woods.  At  every  turn,  angels,  apostles,  and 
martyrs  stand  in  marble  or  bronze  in  grand,  grace- 
ful, and  devout  forms,  peopling  the  spaces.  A 
pulpit  of  incredible  richness,  by  Nicolo  da  Pisa,  is 
on  one  side  of  the  Tribune.  It  is  raised  on  eight 
slender  columns,  four  of  which  rest  upon  white 
marble  lions  and  lionesses,  sporting  with  their  cubs, 
and  there  is  also  a  central  column,  supported  by  a 
group  of  figures,  highly  finished.  The  capitals  of 
these  pillars  are  wrought  into  foliage,  among  which 


502  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

birds,  in  every  lovely  attitude,  are  pecking  and  turn- 
ing. Trefoiled  arches,  enclosed  in  one  Gothic  arch, 
surmount  the  columns,  and  upon  each  capital  stands 
a  lovely  figure,  with  angels  looking  over  its  shoul- 
ders, while  other  angels  fill  the  rest  of  the  space 
behind.  Above  is  a  cornice,  delicately  embossed, 
and  over  that,  compartments  of  bas-reliefs,  repre- 
senting the  life  of  Christ,  separated  from  each  other 
by  stately  figures  of  prophets ;  and  above  the  whole 
is  another  rich  cornice.  The  stairway  is  covered 
v»rith  arabesques,  curved  on  the  marble,  and  every 
one  of  the  balusters  is  of  a  different  design  from 
every  other.  It  is  gorgeous  beyond  description, 
and  all  patiently  and  faithfully  worked  out  of  the 
stone,  without  one  careless  touch. 

[This  ends  my  rapid  survey  of  our  first  four  days 
in  Siena,  when  I  could  make  no  record  in  my  journal, 
as  events  occurred.] 

October  5th. — We  went  to  the  Institute  of  the 
Fine  Arts  to-day.  We  saw  pictures  in  tempera  from 
1200  to  those  in  oils  in  1500.  Yery  quaint  Madon- 
nas and  holy  Infants,  all  evidently  from  some  sacred 
type,  perhaps  Greek — with  long  noses,  low  foreheads, 
small  eyes,  and  interminable  fingers,  and  the  babe 
always  mature  in  expression.  Presently,  the  Ma- 
donna began  to  be  more  comely,  and  the  young 
child  infantine  and  sweet.  But  all  that  went  before 
were  put  out  of  mind  by  Sodoma's  fresco  of  Christ 
bound  to  the  column.     It  is  of  life-size,  and  a  little 


RETURNING   TO  ROME— SIENA.  50? 

more  than  lialf-lengtli.  He  looks  toward  tlie  left, 
the  head  slightly  inclined,  with  an  introspective  ex- 
pression of  the  eyes.  It  is  the  first  representation 
of  Christ  ^Yhich  I  have  seen  that  gives  me  any  satis- 
faction. The  figure  is  of  the  ideal  projportions  of 
manhood,  and  the  face  and  head  are  of  perfect  and 
delicate  beauty,  while  they  are  grand  with  strength 
and  intellectual  power.  There  is  a  weariness  unto 
death  in  the  large  lids,  half  cast  down  in  heavy 
reverie  over  wonderful,  deep  eyes,  tender,  depre- 
cating, and  infinitely  pathetic  in  their  eloquence. 
There  is  a  love  in  them  far  beyond  Torture  and 
Time,  a  sweetness  illumined  by  celestial  fire — flaming 
through  a  mist  as  of  tears — a  profound,  unquench- 
able, spiritual  light,  which  is  the  Eesurrection  and 
the  Life.  The  cords  alone  seem  to  keep  him  erect, 
so  spent  with  agony  and  fatigue  is  the  finely  organ- 
ized frame.  The  lips  are  parted,  as  if  there  were 
not  ph3^sical  power  left  to  keep  them  closed.  The 
mouth  is  ideally  beautiful,  and  expressive  of  gener- 
ous sensibility  and  of  suffering,  such  as  the  imagi- 
nation cannot  compass.  The  face  is  flushed :  the 
crown  of  thorns  presses  savagely,  and  over  the 
divine  brow  heavy  gouts  of  blood  drop  upon  the 
breast,  shed  with  patient,  immortal  love.  The  line 
of  the  nose  is  of  the  most  refined  delicacy,  while  the 
nostrils  dilate  with  a  spirit  and  a  pride  so  angelic, 
so  superb,  that  one  feels  that  he  submits  not  through 
weakness,  but  through  conquering  might.  From  the 
noble  head  the  long,  brown  hair  flows  down  with 


504  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

wonderful  grace.  Sodoma  excels  all  tlie  great  mas- 
ters in  the  painting  of  the  eyes.  These  eyes  are 
introspective,  as  I  said,  looking  downward.  But 
one  feels  that  if  the  large  lids  were  lifted,  the 
glory  of  the  eyes  would  dazzle  and  command. 
Christ  has  always  been  represented  feebly — beauti- 
ful, without  force  or  manliness.  Sodoma  finds  that 
he  is  beautiful,  yet  most  princely,  most  strong.  And 
this  unequalled  conception  of  Christ  is  peeling  off 
the  w^al],  and  is  already  very  much  injured  ! 

In  another  room  was  a  Gethsemane,  v.-hich  is 
generally  disagreeably  pictured.  I  had  never  yet 
seen  one  that  I  liked  at  all.  But  Sodoma  has 
painted  one  at  last.  I  did  not  have  time  to  contem- 
plate this  so  long  as  I  had  done  the  other  :  but  I 
saw  the  deep,  large  eyes  raised  in  prayer,  and  a 
sovereign  beauty  radiating  from  every  line.  I  can- 
not recall  it  minutely  now,  however,  but  see  better 
the  Judith  at  this  moment.  Allori's  Judith  in  the 
Pitti  is  superior  to  any  I  have  before  seen ;  but  this 
infinitely  transcends  Allori's.  This  is  not  the  splen- 
did woman,  the  lover  of  Holofernes.  It  is  a  maiden, 
pure  as  a  lily,  and  gentle  and  tender  as  a  dove,  with 
a  deep  soul,  and  a  resolution,  a  will  made  immutable 
and  irresistible  by  having  united  with  God's  will. 
She  is  one  who,  believing  she  sees  ^\dlat  is  right, 
does  it,  and  having  done  so  fearful  a  thing  as  this, 
begins  to  comprehend  the  worship  of  sorrow,  and  at 
this  moment  is  lost  in  the  sudden  revelation  opened 
to  her  by  her  action.     She  is  nobly  beautiful,  pale 


BETUBJSfmO   TO  ROME— SIENA.  505 

liko  a  pearl,  and  lier  great  dark  eyes  are  veiled  by 
the  migiity  shadow  of  thouglit,  as  with  a 'transparent 
cloud, — sad  thought, — and  her  mouth  is  also  sad. 
She  suddeuly  feels  her  soul  to  be  very  heavy,  and 
yet,  over  all  is  a  large  tranquillity,  as  if  God  were 
with  her.  The  pride  of  life  is  in  the  Judith  of 
Alloii,  but  Sodoma's  Judith  has  the  majesty  of  truth 
and  guilelessness.  It  is  a  face  of  Avhich  one  could 
never  tire ;  and  how  different  it  is  from  his  Eve ! 
Eve  is  the  richest  blossom  of  young  womanhood, 
dewy  and  rose-tinted,  with  a  fresh  creation  thrilhng 
in  her  veins,  and  the  symphonies  of  the  spheres 
tuning  her  pulses  ;  the  new  sunshine  sliiuing  in  her 
hair,  new  auroras  dawning  in  her  eyes — lilies,  moon- 
light, and  pomegranates  striving  in  her  tissues  for 
mastery,  all  just  made,  and  in  full  potency.  How 
she  curves  toward  Adam,  and  beams  with  all  the 
witchery  of  woman !  She  is  not  divine,  but  arch  and 
earthly,  before  the  stain  of  crime  had  mingled  with 
earth  to  make  it  foul.  She  is  made  of  Virgin  earth, 
— dust  transfused  with  the  breath  of  God,  and  a 
boundless  joy  of  existence  animates  her  whole  form. 
Her  "bosom's  lord  sits  lightly  on  his  throne,"  in 
vast  contrast  to  the  heavy  soul  of  Judith.  Eve  is 
the  embodied  smile  of  the  unworn  world,  an  ecstatic 
sense  of  life. 

There  was  a  Holy  Family  by  Rubens,  but  I  really 
could  not  look  at  it  after  Sodoma.  The  absence  of 
spirituality  in  him  contrasts  painfully  with  these 
Italian  masters.     Rubens  wore  his  two  wives  on  hi.? 

22 


508  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

eyes,  and  all  liis  female  figures  and  faces  are  liia 
wives,  sometimes  modified  and  sometimes  not,  and 
all  representations  of  his  children  are  his  own 
bouncing  babies,  not  at  all  divine.  Sodom  a  was 
after  Perugino,  and  broke  free  from  the  hard  line  of 
the  previous  schools.  His  pencil  is  genial,  soft,  and 
blending,  and  no  longer  suggests  parchment  and 
cords. 

October  6th. — This  morning  I  went  to  the  Baptis- 
tery to  draw  Ghiberti's  lovely  Angels  of  the  Font. 
I  had  a  pencil  which  proved  to  be  like  the  lead  chil- 
dren melt  into  nondescripts,  and  could  not  produce 
an  eloquent  line,  but  I  got  the  groups  and  the  atti- 
tudes. All  the  bas-reliefs  of  the  font  are  by  great 
artists.  The  gilding  of  the  bronze  is  still  quite 
bright.  We  went  afterward  into  the  Cathedral,  and 
I  sketched  the  right  aisle,  and  the  antique  font 
(which  was  once  a  Koman  candelabrum),  and  a  por- 
tion of  the  gorgeous  pulpit. 

In  the  afternoon  I  saw  at  San  Francesco's  church 
the  Deposition  of  Sodoma.  I  was  very  jealous  lest 
I  should  like  it  better  than  that  of  Perugino,  but  I 
did  not.  Mary  has  quite  fainted  away,  and  her  face 
has  deep  pathos  beneath  the  shadow  of  death  thrown 
over  it.  It  is  foreshortened,  but  perfectly  drawn,  so 
that  the  beauty  of  contour  is  not  lessened.  Her 
features  are  very  delicate,  and  even  the  contraction 
and  the  pinching  of  her  agony  do  not  take  from  her 
beauty.       Under  the  hood  which  partly  veils  her 


BETUBNING   TO  BOME— SIENA.  507 

brow  her  lids  have  closed  on  a  sight  which  a  mother 
cannot  bear.  I  think  all  the  power  of  the  picture 
centres  in  her  face.  She  lies  on  the  ground,  attended 
by  another  Mary  and  John.  Joseph  and  Peter  are 
taking  down  the  body.  Mary  Magdalen,  very  fair, 
with  light  golden  hair,  stands  at  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
uttering  a  cry.  Another  Mary  supports  the  feet. 
Two  Koman  soldiers,  one  with  a  halberd  and  one 
with  the  spear  that  pierced  Christ's  side,  stand  talk- 
ing together  in  an  indifferent  way.  He  of  the  spear 
is  particularly  nonchalant,  as  if  he  were  looking  at  a 
puppet-show.  Over  the  Madonna  kneels  the  figure 
of  an  elderly  woman  in  black,  who  spreads  out  her 
hands  in  dismay  at  the  fainting. 

While  I  was  engaged  with  this,  the  custode  un- 
veiled another  picture  by  Beccafumi,  of  the  Holy 
Fathers  in  Limbo,  and  Christ  descending  to  them. 
I  was  immediately  struck  with  the  wonderful  spirit- 
ual beauty  of  the  figure,  face,  and  action  of  Christ. 
His  face  seems  composed  of  a  transparent  substance, 
through  which  his  pity  and  tenderness  beam.  It  is 
"the  celestial  body,"  of  which  St.  Paul  speaks.  He 
bends  to  the  upraised  countenance  of  one  of  the 
Fathers,  like  a  benignant,  sympathizing  friend. 
Thin  blue  draper}^  floats  about  him  like  slightly- 
condensed  air,  and  he  touches  with  his  hand  the 
shoulder  of  the  old  man.  One  feels  the  thrilling 
influence  that  penetrates  the  whole  being  of  the 
saint,  from  those  caressing  fingers.  Other  spirits 
crowd  around,  gazing  with  hope  and  longing  at  the 


508  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

divine  visitant.  The  contours  have  the  delicacy  of 
Yenetian  glass,  and  there  seems  an  inner  light, 
which  shows  the  perfect  tracing  of  the  lines,  and 
above  all,  Pity  and  Love.  Love  itself  is  the  hght 
that  illumines  him.  Here  is  something  more  won- 
derful than  Titian's  color.  He  paints  the  splendid 
material  tissues,  but  Beccafumi  paints  the  spiritual 
body.  It  is  singular  that  we  had  come  to  Sieua  to 
see  Christ  made  manifest ;  for  the  Christ  of  Bapha- 
el's  Transfiguration  is  not  equal  to  Sodom  a's  and 
Beccafumi's,  as  it  seems  to  me.  I  wonder  I  have 
not  heard  more  about  the  Sienese  school ;  and  how 
I  rebelled  against  the  idea  of  its  being  so  great ! 

I  saw  in  the  Institute  a  figure  by  a  very  early 
master,  like  Michel  Angelo's  Judge  in  the  Sistine 
fresco.  Could  he  have  appropriated  it?  Michel 
Angelo  and  Raphael  took  wdth  royal  hands  what- 
ever they  pleased,  from  right  and  left,  and  then 
made  their  spoils  entirely  their  own ;  and  they  were 
so  rich,  and  their  genius  so  plastic,  that  they  could 
do  this  without  mvading  their  originality.  As  Mr. 
Story  said,  "It  is  only  the  weak  who  fear  to  be 
helped."  It  was  from  San  Francesco  that  Sodo- 
ma's  Christ  bound  to  the  column,  was  taken. 

Palazzo  Pubblico. 

October  7th. — We  went  to  the  Palazzo  Pubblico, 
this  morning,  to  see  frescoes  and  paintings  in 
oil.      A   ceiling   by   Beccafumi,   of  Boman  stories, 


BETURNmO   TO  ROME— SIENA.  509 

freshly  brilliant.  I  did  not  fancy  much,  after  having 
seen  his  Limbo.  But  a  Madonna  by  Sodom  a — dear 
me !  I  suspect  it  surpasses  all  others !  I  have  not 
yet  seen  the  Dresden  Madonna,  which  doubtless  is 
the  divinest  ever  pictured,  but  all  the  innumerable 
rest  of  them  must  be  ranked  belo\y  this  one  in  the 
old  Public  Palace  of  Siena.  She  is  sitting  just  at 
the  entrance  of  an  open  manger,  with  "  the  Wonder- 
ful," the  ''Prince  of  Peace,"  on  her  knees.  Her 
expression  is  that  of  joy  and  amazement,  her  right 
hand  lifted  with  an  action  of  surprise.  It  is  the 
noblest,  loveliest  face  of  earliest  A^'omanhood,  with 
large,  liquid  eyes,  every  contour  queenly  yet  girlish  ; 
not  a  shade  of  pensiveness — only  pure  delight  and 
rapture  at  a  heavenly  miracle  illumine  her  aspect. 
Her  mouth  of  richest  curves  is  tremulous  with 
happy  emotion ;  and  the  great  eyes  have  a  misty 
gleam,  as  with  glorious  tears.  The  Infant  is  sub- 
lime and  sweet,  and  raises  his  little  hand  to  bless. 
Mr.  H.  thought  him  particularly  beautiful.  In 
Mary's  face  is  that  indescribable  look  of  no  age, 
which  the  old  masters,  and  Raphael  also,  give  to 
their  angels.  It  combines  youth  and  painless  expe- 
rience, such  as  cycle  beyond  cycle  in  heaven  could 
impart ;  and  perhaps  it  is  angelic  wisdom.  Sodoma 
has  given  this  look  to  his  Madonna,  and  if  Mary  sym- 
bolizes the  Church,  it  is  most  appropriate.  She  is 
so  unconscious,  that  the  sword  will  pierce  her  heart 
before  she  knows  that  she  is  personally  concerned 
ill  this  Saviour  of  the  world. 


5iu  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

In  another  hall  are  three  Saints,  bj  this  artist — 
Saint  Ansano,  Saint  Ambrogio,  and — I  forget  the 
name  of  the  other.  Saint  Ansano  is  the  divine  one. 
He  stands,  with  a  radiant  light  breaking  from  his 
presence  as  from  a  Dawn.  He  is  performing  some 
benign  act,  and  the  "  good-will  to  man"  in  his  soul 
is  Avhat  causes  this  effulgence.  But  he  is  not  of  the 
angelic  type,  for  one  sees  that  it  has  been  through 
tribulation  and  anguish  that  he  has '  become  the 
saint  he  is.  His  day  before  has  been  stormy  with 
thunder  and  rain,  and  this  morrow  of  peace  and 
glory  is  the  result  of  a  cleared  atmosphere.  In  his 
eyes  and  cheeks  and  mouth  are  the  genial  warmth 
and  flush  of  trial  and  conquest,  and  his  hair  glitters 
as  if  angels,  Avhom  we  cannot  see,  were  shining  upon 
him.  The  other  two  saints  are  also  fine ;  but  I  had 
time  for  only  one,  and  cannot  describe  them.  The 
old  custode  was  impatient,  and  I  nearly  destroyed 
him,  as  it  was,  with  my  pertinacity  of  delay.  He 
preferred  to  show  us  a  casket  which  once  contained 
the  arm  of  John  the  Baptist,  he  said  !  An  immense 
picture,  called  the  Madonna  of  the  Baldacchino,  by 
Simone  Memmi,  he  would  not  let  us  stay  to  see. 
One  might  spend  weeks  in  this  Palazzo  alone,  study- 
ing with  unweariable  satisfaction ;  and  Siena  is  so 
full  of  priceless  treasures,  that  I  wish  we  could 
remain  here  a  month,  at  least. 

October  8th. — I  went  with  Ada  and  the  children 
to  St.  Agostino,  to  see  Perugino's  Crucifixion  and 


RETUBmNO   TO  EOME— SIENA.  5!  I 

Sodoraa's  Nativity.  Perugino's  design  is  as  regular 
as  a  mathematical  figure  :  Christ  upon  the  cross — • 
an  angel  on  each  side,  holding  vases  beneath  thcj 
hands,  to  catch  the  precious  blood  that  drops  :  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross  two  Marys,  kneeling  opposite 
one  another.  Behind  one  Mary  stands  the  Madonna, 
and  behind  the  other,  St.  John.  A.  vi^onderful  quiet 
is  produced  by  this  order.  The  sentiment  of  the 
scene  is  an  awed  silence-,  in  the  presence  of  the 
dread  event.  Even  his  mother  does  not  faint,  but 
looks  down,  pale  and  still.  All  are  hushed  by  an 
emotion  and  apprehension  too  great  for  expression. 
It  is  different  to  any  representation  of  the  subject  I 
have  seen.  The  faces  are  all  characteristic,  and 
some  are  beautiful,  and  every  part  is  carefully 
finished. 

In  the  Piccolomini  Chapel  is  an  Epiphany,  by 
Sodoma.  Here  again  is  ihe  noblest  beauty  in  Mary. 
She  is  so  absorbed  in  gazing  upon  the  infant,  that 
she  does  not  observe  the  old  king  kneeling  to  kiss 
his  little  foot,  or  the  splendid  young  king  who,  with 
a  royal  step  and  gesture,  is  coming  forward  to  offer 
a  delicate  vase  of  pearl.  Ideal  kingiiness  is  in  this 
figure.  An  African  potentate,  bearing  a  cup  of 
purest  gold,  Joseph,  angels,  superb  horses,  camels, _ 
and  attendants,  fill  up  the  scene.  Sodoma  is  more 
like  Raphael  than  any  other  painter,  I  think. 

In  the  evening  we  walked  out  to  a  pleasant  prom- 
enade, where  were  lawns  and  statues  and  avenues, 
and  sat  down  to  watch  the  comet  descend  for  an 


512  NOTES  m  ITALY. 

hour.     We  lieard  that  it  would  be  particularly  mag- 
nificent to-night  (8th) ;   but  it  was  not  brighter  than  ■ 
we  had  found  it  at  Montauto  and  Marciana. 

October  9th. — We  went  to  San  Francesco's  church 
to  see  Sodoma's  Deposition  and  Beccafumi's  Limbo 
again,  and  to  the  Oratory  of  St.  Bernardino  for  the 
frescoes  of  Sodoma  and  Beccafumi.  In  a  Nativity 
by  the  latter,  the  infant  Christ  reminded  me  of 
Murillo's  Good  Shepherd,  in  its  lovely  grace  and 
spiritual  beauty.  It  stands  beside  Mary,  v/ith  its 
hand  in  the  attitude  of  blessing,  and  its  face  turned 
to  its  mother.  The  coloring  is  so  pearly,  that  he 
seems  already  transfigured.  A  v/onderful  angel 
hovers  near,  pausing  in  the  air,  in  a  haze  of  golden 
glory.  It  does  not  float,  but  rests,  with  a  dreamy, 
blissful  expression.  Mary  stands  also,  and  looks 
upon  the  child.  She  has  a  slender  figure,  and  an 
oval,  beautiful  face.  The  Mary  in  the  Visitation,  by 
Sodoma,  satisfies,  like  all  his  Madonnas. 

This  morning  v,'e  saw  Sodoma's  ^ativity,  in  San 
Spirito ;  an  immense  picture  over  the  high  altar. 
The  Madonna  is  different  from  all  his  others  ;  not 
so  extremely  young,  and  the  motive  of  the  face  is 
unlike  the  rest.  Here  she  is  stately.  There  is  a 
queenly  carriage  of  the  head,  and  she  is  conscious 
of  her  dignity.  A  most  noble  Joseph  responds  to 
her  royal  bearing,  and  angels  and  cherubs  beam  out 
on  every  side.  One  descends,  as  we  look,  pressing 
through  the  air  like  a  radiant  dove,  and  a  shining 


RETURNING   TO  ROME— SIENA.  51o 

group  stand  round  tlie  infant,  ready  to  serve  Lim 
and  the  shade,  as  well  as  the  light,  is  filled  with  ser* 
aph  faces.  A  dead  lamb  is  dropped  by  a  shepherd 
in  the  foreground,  with  a  direct  and  pathetic  signifi- 
cance. We  had  the  church  to  ourselves ;  and  an 
hour  passed  like  a  moment,  when  a  nun  came  to  tell 
us  tliat  the  doors  must  be  closed.  So  we  proceeded 
to  the  Oratory  of  St.  Bernardino,  and  then  at  last 
to  the  Library  of  the  Cathedral,  which  is  covered 
with  Pinturicchio's  greatest  frescoes.  In  one  is  the 
authentic  full-length  portrait  of  Kaphael :  so  now  I 
have  really  seen  him,  painted  by  an  eminent  con- 
temporary artist.  Two  eyes  were  not  enough  to  see 
it — I  needed  all  Argus's  to  gaze  quickly  and  thor- 
oughly. It  is  a  princely  figure  of  early  youth,  and 
the  face  is  exceedingly  beautiful.  He  is  assisting  at 
the  obsequies  of  St.  Catharine,  and  stands,  holding 
a  wax-candle.  On  his  head  is  a  black  velvet  cap, 
looped  with  gold,  and  light-golden  hair  flows  from 
beneath  it  in  rich  cmis  to  his  shoulders.  So  the 
XJffizzi  picture  is  untrue,  vritli  its  dark  hair  and  eyes, 
for  these  eyes  are  lustrous  blue,  and  large,  with  a 
musing,  absent  expression,  and  the  complexion  is 
fair  and  blooming.  So  would  look  an  ideal  Prince 
Arthur  or  St.  George.  He  is  the  very  darling  and 
beauty  of  the  world,  just  as  I  should  know  he  must 
be.  A  graceful  cloak  or  mantle  falls  behind,  and  his 
right  hand  rests  on  his  right  hip  in  a  dainty  fashion, 
and  the  action  of  the  limbs  is  gallant  and  noble.  It 
has  an  individual  character,  as  a  faithful  portrait 

22^ 


614  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

would  have,  and  how  Pinturicchio  enjoyed  painting 
him,  any  one  may  fancy.  Pinturicchio  himself 
stands  near,  and  a  youthful  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and 
Perugino.  Probably  Eaphael  was  the  painter  of 
Pinturicchio.  Perugino  looks  like  a  serious-minded 
rustic,  and  I  knew  him  well  before,  for  Eaphael 
has  put  him  into  the  great  picture  of  the  Eesurrec- 
tion  in  the  Pinecotheca  of  the  Vatican,  where  Peru- 
gino put  Eaphael,  asleep  as  a  soldier.  How  charm- 
ing it  must  have  been  for  them  to  paint  one  another! 
but  particularly  what  glorious  pastime  for  all  the  rest 
to  seize  with  their  brushes  Eaphael,  that  vision  of 
beauty  and  grace !  The  colors  of  all  these  frescoes 
are  still  brilliant,  and  many  of  them  represent 
events  in  the  life  of  Eneas  Sylvius  Piccolomini,  after- 
ward Pope  Pio  II.,  I  think.  In  one  scene,  Eaphael 
officiated  as  the  page  of  the  Doge,  holding  the 
Doge's  cap,  who  kneels  in  sumptuous  golden  robes 
by  his  side,  in  prayer.  It  was  pretty  nice,  methinks, 
to  have  Eaphael  for  a  model.  Pinturicchio  was  a 
happy  man.  The  ceiling  of  this  library  is  covered 
with  arabesques  and  cunning  devices,  in  rich  color 
and  gold.  Pifty  huge  missals  lie  on  desks  round 
the  room.  Their  thick  covers  are  mounted  with 
brass  (or  gold),  and  within  they  were  superbly  illu- 
minated by  the  monks  of  St.  Domenic,  four  hundred 
years  ago.  The  black-letter  is  traced  on  fine  vel- 
lum in  characters  three-quarters  of  an  inch  tall,  and 
they  are  enormous  folios.  The  custode  showed  us 
two  of  them,  and  it  would  have  taken  weeks  to  go 


BETUBNING    TO  BOME— SIENA.  51;j 

througli  them  all,  for  v/e  could  merely  glance  at  two. 
At  last  I  sat  clown  to  try  to  sketch  Raphael ;  but  the 
guard  gave  me  no  peace,  and  I  only  made  an  inef- 
fectual scratch.  It  will,  however,  recall  the  original 
attitude  and  action  to  mj-self.  The  floor  is  inlaid 
with  mosaic — crescent  moons  in  polished  tiles.  It 
is  a  glorious  apartment,  worthy  of  the  Cathedral. 

October  10th. — We  spent  this  Sunday  morning  at 
the  Cathedral.  The  music  was  like  the  mornino; 
stars  singing  together,  while  the  organ  thundered  in 
a  grand  undertone,  and  a  soft  flute-voiced  human 
strain  rose  up,  up  into  the  dome,  and  through  it, 
away  to  the  heavens,  reminding  me  of  the  Sistine 
Miserere.  But  it  was  not  sad  like  that.  It  was 
triumphant  with  hallelujahs.  Life  seemed  to  ani- 
mate all  the  statues  ;  especiallj'-  the  wings  of  the 
angels  waved  as  if  for  flight,  while  they  held  the 
vases  of  ever-burning  lamps,  in  the  choir.  The  saints 
raised  their  hands  and  eyes  with  new  ardor,  and  the 
wilderness  of  arches  lifted  themselves  every  moment 
like  swelling  billows  of  harmony,  softly  rolling.  The 
Cathedral  itself  soared  and  sang.  Little  R.  kept 
asking  me  "  What  does  it-  say  ?"  and  I  replied,  "  It 
praises  the  Lord."  The  organ  was  not  visible,  and 
so  the  gorgeous  temple  seemed  uttering  itself  through 
all  its  marble  forms.  We  stayed  till  the  service  was 
over,  and  every  one  had  gone,  except  the  sacristan,  and 
then  the  profound  silence  had  also  its  own  grandeur. 

In    the  afternoon,  we  walked  to  the  Lizza  with 


516  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

the  children,  to  see  the  cit}^  from  a  promontory 
at  the  close  of  the  avenue  ;  and  Ada  and  I  sat  down 
on  a  bank  to  sketch.  I  drew  the  church  of  St.  Do- 
menic  and  the  Campo  Tower,  and  the  Cathedral  roof 

and  dome,  and  J was  very  earnest  to  do  the  same, 

but  lost  his  sketch-book. 

October  11th. — To-day  we  went    to  St.  Dominic 
to  see  Sodom  a's  frescoes. 


Eadicofajsii. 

October  13th. — "We  left  Siena  at  six  o'clock  this 
morning,  and  we  have  travelled  about  forty-five 
miles  to  this  lofty  wilderness,  two  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  more  feet  high,  "where  vegetation 
almost  ceases,"  says  the  guide-book..  It  was  cloudy 
when  we  started,  and  rained  hard  in  a  short  time  ; 
but  afterward  cleared,  and  we  had  fine  weather  till 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  a  pelting  hail- 
storm came  on,  and  clattered  and  poured  furiously 
on  our  carriage  roof  for  awhile.  Finally  a  rainbow 
sprang  over  the  sky  before  us,  and  the  violet  band 
was  very  distinct  and  beautiful,  though  it  is  usually 
faint ;  and  now,  at  eight  o'clock,  the  new  moon  is 
shining. 

The  first  interesting  place  we  passed  was  Buo- 
nonvento,  a  town  crowned  by  a  great  castle,  famous 
as  the  castle  in  which  Henry  the  Seventh  of  Ger- 
many was  supposed  to  be  poisoned  with  the  Host 


RETURNING   TO  ROME— RAD  ICO  FANL         i5l7 

by  a  monk :  but  I  think  it  is  incredible  ;  since  tlie 
Host  is  believed  to  be  the  real  body  of  Christ  by  all 
good  Catholics — and  to  poison  the  body  of  Christ 
for  the  purpose  of  poisoning  a  man,  is  altogether  too 
monstrous  a  thing  to  be  believed.  The  castle  extends 
widely,  like  a  small  city.  We  then  drove  through  a 
very  little  but  walled  town,  called  Torrenieri.  It  con- 
sisted of  but  one  narrow  street  and  two  towers,  and  I 
conjecture  that,  originally,  the  towers  were  alone;  but 
afterward,  as  usual,  people  who  needed  protection 
built  their  houses  within  the  enclosure  of  their  walls. 
We  passed  on  to  San  Qaerico,  where  we  had 
(Ujeune  d  la  fourcliette,  and  remained  two  hours.  It 
had  a  Gothic  church,  a  huge  palace  built  by  the 
Piccolomini,  perfectly  square,  and  without  comeli- 
ness ;  and  a  tali  castle  of  Eoman  work.  We  walked 
to  the  church,  and  found  no  interest  inside,  because 
repairs  have  spoiled  it ;  but  it  is  picturesque  out- 
side, and  the  two  principal  doors  are  very  fine.  One 
has  columns  composed  of  caryatids,  figures  of  forci- 
ble expression,  each  standing  on  lions,  which  are 
quite  grand.  This  door  is  ornamented  with  scuip- 
tures  of  birds,  animals,  flowers,  and  arabesques. 
The  ether  door  has  clustered  columns,  tied  Avith  a 
ribbon  of  marble,  9.s  it  were,  in  a  knot,  each  one 
resting  on  tigers,  sporting  with  kids.  There  arc 
lovely  string-courses  of  sculpture  round  this  also. 
We  were  surrounded  by  beggars  and  gazers  as  we 
stood  to  sketch ;  but  we  had  not  time  to  get  a  com- 
plete drawing  of  any  part. 


518  NOTES  IN  IT  ALT. 

Tlie  Emperor  (my  sobriquet  of  our  vetturino 
Costantino)  ordered  for  us  an  abundant  dejeune, 
and  we  left  the  strange  little  town  of  San  Querico 
just  after  noontide,  with  seven  horses  to  our  carriage, 
instead  of  the  usual  sis  (though  sometimes  we  have 
but  four),  and  came  on  to  Badicofani.  For  hours 
we  had  seen,  far  off  on  the  horizon,  a  bold  and 
abrupt  eminence,  with  a  castellated  summit,  the 
castle  having  the  exact  outline  of  a  double  tooth, 
and  the  whole  rock  not  unlike  one,  rising  out  of  a 
plane  of  mountains.  The  tower  is  much  below  the 
loftj  castle,  which  was  once  the  residence  of  a  rob- 
ber-chieftain, and  later  was  garrisoned  with  lawful 
soldiers,  till  it  was  jarred  to  ruin  by  the  explosion 
of  a  powder-magazine  near  it,  and  has  since  lain  in 
decay.  It  is  the  wildest,  rudest  culmination  of  the 
most  desolate  portion  of  the  country,  possible  to 
conceive.  There  seems  to  have  been  a  battle  of 
giants  ;  for  the  barren  land  is  covered  with  great 
rocks  and  boulders  tossed  about,  and  a  sort  of  dry 
stubble  drearily  fills  the  spaces.  Kound  the  base 
of  the  steep  cliff  upon  Avhich  the  castle  stands,  clings 
the  stone  town.  The  hotel  is  at  a  much  lower  level, 
and  is  a  vast  palatial  building,  formerly  a  hunting- 
palace  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscan}-.  Over  great 
arches  which  make  the  ground-plan,  is  a  wide  log- 
gia, also  arched  in  its  whole  length.  We  ascended 
a  broad  staircase,  leading  from  the  court,  into  a 
vast  saloon,  and  out  of  that  we  were  guided  along  a 
broad,    high    corridor   to    our    apartments.      Large 


BETUENING   TO  ROME—RiiBICOFANI.  519 

couclies  and  tables  are  placed  against  the  walls  on 
each  side  the  corridor.  When  dinner  Avas  ready, 
we  went  down-stairs,  through  a  lobby,  on  one  side 
of  which  is  the  kitchen.  A  roaring  lire  of  logs 
looked  very  warm  and  inviting  there,  for  we  were 
cold  in  this  elevated  situation.  Dinner  was  served 
in  a  saloon  frescoed  with  grapevines,  owls  perched 
on  the  trellises,  and  birds  flying  through  them.  It 
is  the  most  rambling,  ghostly,  endless,  fearful  house 
I  was  ever  in.  The  wind  howling  round,  the  im- 
mense  distances  in  the  rooms,  which  swallow  up  the 
candle-lielit,  the  fierce  bandit-lookincr  man  who 
comes  to  ask  us  what  we  want,  the  old  wdtches  who 
arrange  the  beds,  all  combine  to  compose  a  resi- 
dence that  I  could  not. live  in  without  goiug  mad 
or  melancholy. 

Immediately  after  our  arrival,  we  went  out  to  visit 
the  city  above.  A  perfectly  straight  road  from  the 
hotel  climbs  up  to  it.  But  when  we  were  half-way 
I  saw  a  pelting  shower  hastening  over  the  moun 
tains,  and  I  ran  back  to  the  hotel  to  escape  drown- 
ing, wdiile  J and  his  father  kept  on  their  course. 

Finding  the  rain  did  not  reach  so  far  as  Eiadicofani, 
I  tried  again,  and  got  up  into  the  town — alas !  such 
a  dirty,  horrid  place !  I  had  wished  very  much  to 
wash  Siena,  but  it  would  have  been  useless  to  at- 
tempt to  cleanse  this.  The  streets  were  so  narrow, 
I  could  almost  stretch  across  them,  and  thej''  v/ere 
crowded  with  men,  women,  and  children,  and  don- 
keys.     A   shabby  little   fellow    accosted    me,    and 


520  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

askecl  if  I  wished  to  see  "  una  bellissima  cliiesa." 
I  told  him  that  all  I  wished  was  to  find  a  gentleman 
and  a  boy  who  had  come  up  a  few  moments  before. 
Did  he  know  where  thej  were?  He  said  he  had 
seen  them,  and  would  lead  me  to  them  ;  for  they 
were  in  the  church.  So  I  toiled  along  in  the  dusk, 
everybody  making  way  for  me  in  the  most  cour- 
teous, graceful  manner,  but  taking  their  fill  of 
gazing  at  the  strange  lad}'.  The  child  took  me  to 
the  church,  and  we  lifted  the  door-curtain,  and  were 
lost  in  the  gloom  of  the  nave.  I  went  about,  prying 
into  the  dark  for  my  people,  simply  believing  the 
tale  I  had  been  told.  It  was  the  Ave  Maria,  and 
the  floor  was  full  of  praying  folk  ;  and  now  and 
then  a  twinkle  of  a  candle  could  be  discerned  in 
some  chapek  What,  after  all,  would  these  poor, 
ignorant  people  do  without  their  open  churches, 
where  they  can  go  and  pray  at  stated  hours  in  per- 
fect faith — in  the  midst  of  all  their  squalor  and 
hopelessness  in  regard  of  earthly  weal  ?  It  seems 
to  be  the  only  thing  they  have  to  raise  them  an 
instant  out  of  the  mire.  They  could  not  compre- 
hend an  invisible  Deity,  perhaps,  but  they  can 
worship  the  Virgin  and  the  Crucifix,  which  they  see 
before  their  eyes.     They  must  have  symbols. 

It  finally  struck  me  that  the  little  Kadicofinian 
had  told  me  a  fib,  so  as  to  get  me  into  the  church 
and  earn  some  crazie.  I  therefore  rushed  out  again, 
and  came  home  another  way,  instead  of  grazing 
through  the  intolerable  streets,  where  I  could  with 


RETURNINO   TO  IIOME—VITEJIBO.  521 

great  difficulty  avoid  contact  with  eitlier  donkeys  or 
my  felloAV-creatures,  neither  of  whom  were  agree- 
able to  the  senses,  though  the  latter  had  beautiful 
eyes  and  I3erfect  lines  to  their  noses,  as  Avell  as 
polite  manners. 

I  came  round  the  hill,  down  a  road  that  Aviuds 
into  the  straight  ascent  from  the  hotel.  The  boy 
kept  at  my  side,  and  a  little  girl  joined  him,  each 
begging  for  "  qualchecosa"  every  minute.  I  had  no 
small  moneys,  and  told  them  so,  and  advised  them 
to  go  home.  They  would  not  believe  me,  of  course, 
for  did  they  not  find  it  easy  to  say  what  was  not 
true  ?  but  finally  I  said  I  certainly  should  give  them 
nothing  to-night  or  to-morrow.  Then  the  boy 
stopped,  though  the  girl  came  all  the  way  into  the 
court,  like  an  inevitable  fate. 

YiTBEBO. 

October  14th. — We  left  Eadicofani  at  six  o'clock 
this  morning,  a  golden  morning,  before  sunrise.  I 
must  not  omit,  however,  to  record  that  last  evening, 
at  dinner,  an  old  man  came  in  and  presented  a 
printed  paper  to  us,  and  a  tray  of  medallions.  They 
were  made  by  the  falling  of  the  waters  of  the  baths 
of  San  Felippo  upon  the  moulds  of  medals  or  casts.. 
These  waters  leave  a  precipitate  which  petrifies  into 
fine  impressions,  semi-transparent,  like  alabaster, 
perhaps  a  little  more  opaque.  The  printed  papej 
described  and  commended  them,      I  bought  two — 


522  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

one  of  Pio  Nono,  and  one  of  Venus.  It  is  a  perfect 
likeness  of  the  Pope,  who  lias  a  sweet,  benign 
countenance. 

"We  descended  our  mountain  height  through  the 
gold  of  the  dawn,  the  picture  of  the  Robber's  fast- 
ness making  a  grand  outline  on  our  left.  The  poor 
Abbot  of  Cluny,  once  imprisoned  there  by  the  re- 
nowned Ghina  di  Tacco,  the  lawless  knight,  must 
often  have  gazed  down  our  road  with  longing  ej-es. 
It  is  very  funny  to  know  that  the  slender  diet  he 
was  put  upon  by  his  captor  restored  his  broken 
health  so  effectually  that  he  had  no  need  of  the 
baths,  to  which  he  Vt-as  proceeding  to  recruit,  when 
he  was  stolen  and  convej^ed  aloft. 

We  soon  entered  the  Papacy  at  Ponte  Centino, 
where  we  had  to  present  our  passport  and  bribe  the 
Dogana.  For  eighteen  pauls  we  saved  our  luggage 
from  invasion  and  bowled  merrily  on,  with  a  flourish 
of  whips,  if  not  of  trumpets ;  for  we  had  six  horses 
and  a  postilion,  who  was  an  artist  in  snapping  his 
whip,  as  well  as  the  Emperor.  They  sounded  like  a 
line  of  muskets  popping  off.  As  we  approached 
Acquapendente  the  country  lost  its  barren,  desolate 
character,  and  woods  and  vegetation  enriched  the 
landscape.  We  passed  a  very  deep  and  green  vale, 
above  which  the  town  towers,  in  a  fine  situation  ; 
but-  we  did  not  see  any  of  the  cascades  which 
tumble  into  the  vale  at  some  seasons,  and  give  the 
town  its  name.  Alas,  it  is  a  very  dirty  city,  though 
it  has  an  abundance  of  water  to  wash  itself  with ; 


BETUBNINQ    TO  BOME—VITERBO.  523 

and  once  the  Episcopal  See  was  establislietl  tliere. 
But  bishops  do  not  necessarily  make  a  city  or  a 
people  clean,  and  priests  and  monks  are  sometimes 
causative  of  both  spiritual  and  material  defilement. 

After  leaving  Acquapendente  (it  is  a  pity  that  the 
acqua  does  not  pour  through  the  streets,  instead  of 
off  the  precipices),  we  began  to  see  caves  in  the 
tufa  rocks.  They  were  old  Etruscan  tombs,  and 
sometimes  the  shepherds  live  in  them,  for  they  were 
long  since  rifled  of  their  treasures  and  their  dead. 

We  drove  through  San  Lorenzo  Nuovo,  a  brave, 
new  place,  built  by  the  people  who  had  to  flee  from 
the  old  San  Lorenzo  on  account  of  the  malaria. 
We  soon  came  to  the  site  of  San  Lorenzo  Vecchio, 
and  the  ruins  of  a  touer  marks  the  spot  where  the 
Etruscan  city  stood.  In  the  old  wall  that  still  sur- 
rounds it  are  very  many  sepulchres.  We  could  look 
down  into  some  of  them,  and  I  should  have  liked 
much  to  explore  ;  but  the  air  is  deadly  thereabouts, 
though  it  looks  as  lovely  and  innocent  as  possible. 
The  richest  groves  and  meadows  spread  out  from  the 
shores  of  the  beautiful  great  lake  of  Bolsena  ;  yet  it 
is  so  pestilential,  that  no  one  dares  to  build  a  house 
for  many  miles,  and  though  the  shepherds  tend  their 
flocks  in  the  pastures  and  on  the  banks,  they  never 
venture  to  sleep  in  the  neighborhood.  It  seems  so 
exquisitely  fair  and  verdant  that  one  would  fancy  it 
the  first  Eden ;  but  not  a  dwelling  is  on  the  land, 
and  not  a  boat  is  on  the  wide  expanse  of  water.  All 
is  still  and  alone,  dead-alive.     In  the  lake  are  two 


524  I^^OTES  IN  ITALY. 

islands.  On  one,  the  Queen  of  the  Goths  was  mur- 
dered bj  her  cousin,  Theodosius.  Leo  X.  used  to 
go  to  the  other  to  fish,  for  the  lake  was  famous  for 
its  fish,  especially  its  eels,  and  is  now,  I  suppose, 
unless  the  water  is  also  poison  as  well  as  the  land. 
What  a  singular,  voiceless  curse  is  this  mysterious 
malaria !  It  waves  its  invisible  sword,  and  cuts 
down  all  who  approach  within  its  reach.  There  is 
something  appalling  in  its  quiet,  tyrannous  sover- 
eignty. We  f^lncied  that  the  herdsmen  were  sickly 
in  their  aspects  as  we  passed  them  along  the  shores 
of  the  lake,  which  was  gleaming  like  the  silver  shield 
of  Abdiel,  leader  of  the  heavenly  hosts. 

We  reached  the  town  of  Bolsena  (Yolsinii),  piled 
up  on  the  acclivity  of  a  hill.  There  is  an  upper 
and  lower  town,  and  our  hotel  was  in  a  still  lower 
position  than  either,  all  by  itself.  As  soon  as  we 
alighted,  we  walked  off  to  see  the  towns.  No  words 
can  ever  describe  the  disgustfulness  of  the  streets 
and  of  the  people.  I  do  not  think  they  ever  touch 
w^ater.  We,  of  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  have 
not  the  remotest  idea  how  dirty  a  person  can  be, 
who  has  not  been  washed  for  nearly  three  thousand 
years  !  This  is  the  state  of  the  Bolsenian,  formerly 
the  Volsinian.  It  is  only  in  Europe  that  one  can 
see  a  dirty  face,  and  it  is  necessary  to  come  to 
Europe  to  comprehend  it.  Description  will  not 
avail.  Alas  and  alas !  we  picked  our  way  through 
infinite — no — finite  abominations  in  the  city  once  so 
luxurious  and  rich   as  to  possess   more   than   twa 


RETURNING   TO  ROME—VITERBO.  52.1 

thousand  statues !  We  wisliecl  to  find  traces  o{ 
Etruscan  art,  and  Eomau  art  (for  the  Eomans  lived 
here,  after  conquering  the  Etruscans) ;  and  we  found 
columns  and  arches,  but  our  ejes  and  noses  could 
not  withstand  the  sights  and  odors  many  minutes. 
"We  found  it  to  be  a  fancy  of  the  Bolsenians  to 
fasten  their  black  hogs  b}^  one  leg  to  the  walls,  and 
each  hog  burrowed  for  himself  a  hole,  wherein  he 
delighted  to  wallow  when  he  was  not  eating.  His 
food  was  placed  around  him.  Through  the  centre 
of  streets  a  yard  or  two  wide,  flowed  a  stream  of 
horror.  At  one  great  palace-door  we  stood  and 
looked  into  the  hall.  Human  beings  swarmed  about 
it  like  noisome  insects.  It  was  bare  and  grimy, 
merely  a  shelter,  while  probabl}^  masterpieces  of  art 
once  adorned  it,  in  the  far-off  times.  If  it  had  been 
possible  to  endure  the  atmosphere,  I  should  have 
liked  to  go  up  the  regal  stairway,  and  see  the  style 
and  arrangements  of  the  saloons ;  but  it  could  not 
be  thought  of.  Nothing  but  an  earthquake  can 
destroy  Etruscan  work,  and  these  stones  are  fixed 
for  ages  and  ages  ;  so  that  the  only  thing  to  be  done 
is  to  burn  them  out  Avith  fire,  that  every  thing  perish- 
able might  fall  into  ashes,  and  the  walls  become 
purified.  But  even  the  stones  must  be  impregnated 
with  evil,  which  could  not  be  burnt  out.  It  is  a 
hopeless  case  ;  and  besides,  the  stealthy  demon  of 
malaria  is  stealing  up  the  heights;  and  soon  the 
people  will  all  fall  victims  to  it,  and  then  "  the 
abomination   of   desolation"   will  possess   Bolsena, 


523  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

"  But  tlie  cormorant  and  tlie  bittern  shall  possess  it ; 
the  owls  also  and  the  ravens  shall  dwell  in  it,  and 
He  shall  stretch  out  upon  it  the  line  of  confusion, 
and  the  stones  of  emptiness  : — none  shall  be  there, 
and  all  her  princes  shall  be  nothing.  And  thorns 
shall  come  up  in  her  palaces,  nettles  and  brambles 
in  the  fortresses  thereof  ;  and  it  shall  be  a  habitation 
of  dragons,  and  a  court  for  owls."  "  And  the  glori- 
ous beauty  which  is  on  the  head  of  the  fat  valley 
shall  be  a  fading  flower,  and  as  the  hasty  fruit  be- 
fore the  summer." 

We  climbed  up  innumerable  steps  to  the  castle, 
and  its  surrounding  upper  town.  The  castle  is 
Roman,  perhaps.  It  has  square  towers  at  each 
end,  beautifully  machicolated.  After  a  painful  ex- 
ploration, we  descended  by  the  side  of  the  hill, 
along  an  avenue  of  trees,  to  the  arched  gate  of  the 
lower  town  ;  for  near  this  gate  are  very  interesting 
ruins  of  an  Etruscan  temple  to  the  goddess  Norcia. 
There  are  capitals  of  columns  and  sepulchral  monu- 
ments, forming  quite  a  road  from  the  gate  outward. 
A  double  pillar,  broken  off,  was  very  curious ;  for 
one  half  differed  from  the  other.  One  half  was 
square,  and  the  other  round ;  one  plain,  and  the 
other  richly  carved  in  leaves.  One  bit  of  column 
was  delicately  cut  with  a  grapevine.  Perhaps  an 
earthquake  toppled  over  this  exquisite  temple.  I 
wish  the  ground  could  all  be  dug  over,  around  the 
site ;  for  treasures  may  be  hidden  beneath  the  soil. 

After  lunch  we  went  out  to  sketch.     I  was  soon 


BETUENING    TO  EOME—VITERBO.  527 

beset  witli  interested  spectators — men,  women,  boys, 
girls,  and  babies  in  arms,  all  trying  to  look  over  my 
book.  They  were  more  nasty  than  I  can  by  any 
means  tell,  with  foulness  inherited  from  the  Ptomans, 
probably,  and  at  any  rate  very  ancient.  I  could 
scarcely  breathe  such  an  atmosphere  as  they  cre- 
ated, and  armies  of  fleas  attacked  me  besides.  Yet, 
so  potent  is  the  human  soul,  that  this  beggarly  crowd 
of  Italians  gave  an  impression  of  refinement  and 
civilization,  very  old  and  settled  civilization,  by  their 
manners  and  bearing.  They  were  quiet  and  gentle 
and  exceedingly  courteous.  They  spoke  in  whis- 
pers, and  were  deeply  interested  in  my  Vi'ork,  from 
an  innate  love  of  art,  woven  into  their  members  and 
being.  Their  glorious  eyes  (which  were  clean)  shone 
with  delight  at  every  line  I  drcAV  which  they  recog- 
nized as  true.  I  sketched  the  castle  and  the  town 
beneath  it,  and  they  called  by  mellifluous  names 
each  house  and  wall.  I  told  them  I  liked  their 
castle  yerj  much,  and  they  repeated  to  each  other 
with  pride  that  I  said  so.  How  infinitely  pathetic 
and  Vv'onderful  that  they  should  enjoy  their  old  stones 
for  their  beauty,  when  they  have  them  instead  of 
bread  and  raiment — only  stones  !  I  talked  with  them 
about  my  great  interest  in  the  city,  and  they  re- 
sponded with  intelligence.  Whenever  any  one  hap- 
pened to  obstruct  my  view,  the  rest  commanded  him 
to  move  from  the  signora's  eye,  and  a  vista  was  kept 
for  me  most  jealously  all  the  time.  I  showed  them 
a  few  other  sketches  in  my  book,  and  at  the  Campo 


528  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Tower  of  Siena  tliej  exclaimed,  "  O  bellissima !  bel- 
iissima  !"  but  always  in  subdued  tones.  ]S[ot  one  of 
tliem  begged  money.  When  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
off,  because  our  hour  of  departure  was  come,  they 
all  stood  aside  in  a  crowd,  four  or  five  handsome 
boys  on  the  outskirts,  and  as  I  cordially  bade  the 
beautiful,  dirty  creatures  "  addio,"  they  smiled,  and 
bowed,  and  waved  their  hands,  like  so  many  princes. 
Those  who  had  little  caps  on  their  clustering  hair 
raised  them,  and  stood  uncovered.    It  was  v/onderful. 

And  there  was  the  Emperor  Constantine  leading 
little  B-.  by  the  hand  out  of  the  gate  of  the  lower 
town,  her  sunny  goldness  contrasting  Avith  his  dark- 
ness in  a  most  picturesque  way ;  for  the  vetturino  is 
a  man  mounted  with  blackest  ebony,  in  hair,  ej^e- 
brows,  moustache,  and  eyes,  besides  a  swarthj^  skin. 
He  is  not  tall,  but  he  has  an  air  of  ease,  and  a  smile 
like  stormy  lightning,  and  behaves  in  all  waj^s  as  an 
emperor  should,  besides  having  the  name  of  one. 

At  half-past  two  we  bade,  I  suppose,  an  eternal 
farewell  to  Volsinium  or  Volsinii,  and  stretched  to- 
ward Rome  many  a  rood  with  our  carriage  and  sis 
horses.  After  a  pretty  long  post,  the  domed  city 
of  Montefiascone  suddenl^^  burst  upon  us,  very  im- 
posing with  its  walls,  towers,  and  duomo,  high  up 
upon  a  rock.  We  drove  to  the  gate,  and  paused  a 
few  moments  to  look  up  its  principal  street ;  but  we 
did  not  enter,  because  we  were  to  spend  tlie  night 
at  Yiterbo.  I  must  not  omit  to  chronicle  that  we 
passed  marvellous  basaltic  formations — columns  of 


BETURNINQ   TO  ROME—VITERBO.  539 

perfect  sj-mmetrj,  and  hexagonal  as  well  as  otlier 
'gonals,  wliicli  seemed  to  liave  been  made  bj  art, 
and  tlien  thrust  into  the  earthy  banks  on  the  side  of 
the  road.  Instead  of  standing  up,  they  were  lying 
horizontally,  with  their  summits  presented  to  us, 
like  so  many  cannon  placed  for  action.  The  love- 
liest cyclamens  also  grew  on  the  waysides — white, 
embroidered  with  pink — and  rose-pink  convolvuli. 
We  arrived  at  Yiterbo  after  five,  and,  while  dinner 
was  in  preparation,  walked  through  the  town.  It  is 
statel}^,  compared  to  the  small  cities  we  have  lately 
passed  through.  On  the  way  to  the  Cathedral  we 
saw  Eoman  arches,  a  sculptured  sarcophagus,  beauti- 
ful fountains,  campaniles,  a  busy  market-place,  and 
soiled,  though  comfortably  flat  pavements.  It  was 
so  dusky  in  the  Cathedral  that  we  could  hardly  see 
anything.  Its  campanile  has  lovely  mullioned  win- 
dows, and  there  is  the  ruin  of  a  grand  archiepiscopal 
palace  on  the  right. 

At  dinner  we  ordered  some  of  the  very  famous 
Montefiascone  wine,  the  Est,  Est,  Est.  I  do  not 
know  how  to  describe  its  etherial  fire,  unless  I  sa}'  it 
was  like  dissolved  sweetened  diamonds, — it  had  such 
a  delicate,  flashing,  penetrating  fierceness.  It  was 
ecstasy,  keen,  delicious,  and  flitting.  It  came  in 
small  flasks,  for  after  the  cork  is  drawn  the  tricksy 
spirit  vanishes  speedily — and  the  second  glass  has 
lost  its  piercing  efficacy.  The  poor  Bishop  was 
certainly  much  tempted ! 

This   morning  we  went  to  the  Cathedral  again. 
23 


530  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

There  was  a  riclily  carved  wliite  marble  vase  for 
liolj  water,  probably  of  Greek  Avorkmansliip  ;  and 
an  historically  interesting  high  altar  ;  for  it  was  at 
that  altar  that  Prince  Henry  of  England  was  mur- 
dered by  Guy  de  Montfort,  in  stupid  revenge  for  the 
murder  of  his  father  by  the  Prince's  father.  Then 
he  dragged  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head  through  the 
dust  of  the  piazza, — the  memorable  piazza,  in  which 
Pope  Adrian  Fourth  made  Frederic  Barbarossa  hold 
the  stirrup  for  him,  while  he  mounted  his  horse,  in 
revenge  for  the  Emperor  having  made  him  ride  with 
his  face  to  his  horse's  tail.  Such  Christian  forgive- 
ness practised  the  Head  of  the  Church,  the  Vicar 
of  Him  who  said,  "  Forgive  your  enemies !"  We 
sketched  a  little,  and  then  went  up  into  the  Palace, 
and  saw  the  vast  hall,  where  the  conclave  of  Cardi- 
nals sat  for  so  long  to  elect  a  Pope,  that  the  people 
finally  took  off  the  roof  to  hasten  their  decision.  It 
is  entirely  empty  now,  not  an  atom  of  any  man  or 
furniture  in  it.  A  great  door  at  one  end  led  out  to 
an  open  court,  in  which  we  found  such  a  beautiful 
and  stupendous  vase  (once  a  fountain),  that  we  all  sat 
down  on  the  stone  seats  surrounding  it,  to  take  its 
likeness,  little  R.  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us.  It  was 
circular  in  form,  with  superb  lions'  heads  sculptured 
upon  it.  When  the  clear  water  was  rising  and  fall- 
ing within  its  enormous  margin,  what  an  enchant- 
ment to  sit  in  its  music,  and  look  out  of  an  open 
arch  of  the  wall  at  the  loveliest  view !  Afar,  the 
pale   blue    mountains  '  waved   along    the     horizon 


RETURNING   TO  B0ME—8ETTE  VENE.         5;31 

Nearer,  tlie  city  of  Montefiascone  crowned  an  emi- 
nence, topped  by  its  dome  and  its  towers.  Nearer 
still  were  the  picturesque  walls  of  Viterbo,  wdtli  tall 
turrets,  wreathed  with  ivy  ;  and  a  great  part  of  the 
town  was  heaped  up  beneath  us — one  stately,  domed 
and  towered  church,  the  Chiesa  dell'  Eternifca,  emi- 
nent among  all  other  buildings.  We  drew  a  turret 
of  the  wall,  but  there  was  not  time  to  do  much,  as 
we  were  to  leave  Yiterbo  at  eleven. 

The  sarcophagus  that  v/e  had  seen  on  our  way 
in  the  street,  by  a  church- door,  contains  the  body  of 
the  most  beautiful  woman  of  Italy  (in  her  time),  so 
beautiful,  that  there  was  a  battle  fought  for  her  by 
the  Yiterbans  and  the  Romans,  and  the  Yiterbans 
gained  the  victory ;  and  this  new  Helen  was  shown 
to  the  conquered  Romans,  at  their  request,  from  a 
balcony,  that  they  might  have  a  parting  gaze. 

"  And  so  another  Helen  fired  anotlier  Troy." 

Yiterbo  is  the  ancient  Fanum  YolumnifB,  a  place 
of  assembly  of  the  Etruscans  ;  and,  in  continuation, 
the  Roman  conclaves  have  often  met  there  to  choose 
Popes.  The  columns  of  the  nave  of  the  Cathedral 
are  doubtless  the  same  that  adorned  the  Temple  of 
Hercules,  which  stood  on  that  site,  and  the  superb 
marble  vase  must  have  also  belonged  to  it. 

Sette  Yene. 

October  15th. — We  arrived  at  this  pleasant  spot 
before  five  o'clock.     It  is  smooth  meadow-land  of  a 


5S3  NOTES  IN  ITALY  . 

lovely  green,  golden  green,  and  the  afternoon  was 
so  clear  and  quiet  that  every  thing  looked  glorified. 
At  each  side  of  a  broad  road,  slender  trees  stand, 
almost  as  spiritual  in  their  appearance  as  the  trees 
which  Raphael  and  Perugino  paint  behind  their 
Madonnas.  No  doubt,  Mr.  Ruskin,  they  copied 
nature  in  those  trees  which  so  exasperate  you. 

The  hotel  is  very  rambling.  There  is  but  one 
interesting  object  in  the  spot  that  we  knew  about ; 
and  that  is  an  old  Roman  bridge  over  the  Treja,  a 
sluggish  stream.  It  should  not,  however,  be  called 
a  stream,  as  it  does  not  stir,  but  slumbers  heavily  in 

its  mud.     We  went  out  to  see  it,  while  J and 

R.  were  off  on  the  meadow  with  the  Emperor. 
It  was  truly  refreshing  to  stop  at  an  inn  not  sur- 
rounded by  a  dirty  town.  All  about  there  it  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  clean  and  nice  since  creation.  We 
found  the  beautiful  old  one-arched  bridge  in  a  field, 
close  by  a  new  bridge,  now  erected  in  a  more  direct 
line  with  the  highway.  I  made  a  sketch  on  the 
spot ;  for  it  is  as  picturesque  and  perfect  as  an  old 
arched  bridge  can  be ;  and  there  is  a  marvellous 
charm  in  all  Roman  work,  partly  from  its  being  so 
well  done,  and  partly  from  its  being  Roman.  How 
astonishing  it  is  that  Rome  should  still  rule  the 
world — not  by  its  Pope — lie  is  a  mei-e  puppet ;  but 
by  an  impalpable,  indescribable  power  of  classical 
association,  and  an  irresistible  recognition  of  its 
sovereignty-  Not  all  her  monstrous  sin  and  crime 
can  displace  the   right   royal   pre-eaiinence  of  the 


BE  TURN  mo   TO  ROME—SETTJ^  VENE.         533 

Queen  of  Nations.  How  long  licr  Might  seemed 
Eigbt.!  No  longer  ruling  jDeoples  externally,  liow  she 
still  rules  them  through  the  imagination  and  intel- 
lect !  ximong  all  Byron's  really  inspired  utterances 
about  Italy,  no  one  is  more  exactly  true,  than  his 
calhng  Eome  "  the  city  of  the  soul."  The  yellow 
waters  of  the  Tiber  look  as  if  the  sins  of  Hehoga- 
balus  had  dissolved  in  them,  when  he  was  thrown 
into  it ;  and  yet  the  Tiber  is  the  imagination's  dear- 
est river,  and  flows  through  the  mind  as  pure  as  a 
mountain  torrent,  lucid  as  air.  What  a  world  of 
delight  one  loses  here,  who  has  not  classical  memo- 
ries !  How  precious  to  one  is  one's  Yirgil  and  Ovid 
and  Cassar,  and  Livy  and  Tacitus,  and  even  Viri 
Eomc^!  and  what  must  be  the  enjoyment  of  the 
profound  scholar  and  arcbseologist,  to  whom  every 
stone  tells  an  immortal  story !  I  wish  no  one  would 
come  to  Eome  before  reading  and  studying  all  that 
poets  and  historians  have  snug  and  written  about 
it,  for  then  their  profit  and  pleasure  will  be  increased 
a  thousand-fold. 

But  I  have  wandered  away  from  my  bridge.  It 
was  not  very  safe  to  stand  over  the  still  water  to- 
ward sunset  in  this  malaria  region,  and  so  I  did  not 
finish  the  sketch,  but  returned  to  the  hotel.  The 
Emperor  was  making  a  picture  of  himself,  lying 
on  a  low  parapet,  with  his  dark  face  and  ebony 
trimmings  relieved  against  a  clear,  gold  sunset, 
while  his  dog  capered  over  him;  and  E.  stood 
watching  the    group  and  the   fun.      He  lifted  his 


584  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

dark-green  little  cap  from  his  black  locks  as  we 
approaclied. 

We  took  the  children  into  the  hotel,  out  of  the 
dangerous  twilight ;  and  now  I  must  note  down  our 
drive  to-day. 

It  was  after  eleven  before  we  left  Viterbo,  not  very 
pleasantly ;  for  the  waiter  wished  for  higher  fees  than 
we  paid  him,  though  we  had  given  him  as  much  as 
had  contented  every  other  waiter  on  our  route.  But 
perhaps  because  he  was  a  waiter  in  "  The  Imperial 
Hotel  of  the  Black  Eagle,"  he  thought  he  ought 
to  have  more  than  a  servant  in  an  inn  in  a  smaller 
city  than  Viterbo.  As  he  was  the  most  inattentive 
and  discourteous  of  all  the  waiters  who  had  served 
us,  I  would  not  give  wa}^  to  his  importunity  ;  and  it 
made  the  Emperor  very  sad  to  go  off  under  such  a 
cloud.  He  lost  his  spirits  entirely,  and  did  not 
snap  his  whij^,  nor  coo  to  his  horses,  nor  talk  to  E. 

and  J ,  both  of  whom  were  on  the  box  with  him, 

while  Mr.  H.  and  I  were  in  the  coupe  behind  them. 
He  was  relieved  when  I  told  him  that  the  waiter 
was  surly  and  careless ;  though  it  took  a  great 
many  miles  to  disperse  the  depression  of  his  mind ; 
and  it  was  really  pleasant  when  he  commenced  his 
extraordinary  sounds  again.  For  the  Italian  vettu- 
rino  not  only  coos  to  his  steeds,  but  grunts  and 
groans  to  them  :  yet  not  either  of  those  ;  but  a  sound 
one  would  make  if  a  nail  were  thrust  suddenly  into 
one — a  sort  of  "  ugh,"  as  if  he  were  sympathizing 
with   their  efforts  to  tug  along.     The  Emperor  is 


RETURNING   TO  ROME—SETTE  VENE.         535 

very  generous — open-lianclecl, — which  was  one  cause 
of  his  distress  that  the  Signora  shoukl  seein  other- 
wise. He  gives  to  the  beggars,  and  pays  large  fees 
to  our  postilions,  and  shows  a  great  nature  in  every 
way.  For  his  sake  I  wished  I  had  paid  more  pauls ; 
but  on  no  other  account,  for  it  was  not  just.  It 
was  good  to  see  his  care  of  the  childreri.  He 
wrapped  E.  in  shawls,  and  put  his  own  thick  mantle 

behind  for  her  and  J to  lean  against,  and  amused 

them  with  his  discourse  to  his  horses,  and  with  the 
extraordinary  musketry  of  his  enormous  whip.  He 
gracefully  accepted  little  K.'s  offering  of  two  grapes 
in  a  cup  made  of  a  big  chestnut-shell.  He  compre- 
hended instantly  the  piquante  fun  of  the  thing,  and 
his  face  flashed  with  the  stormy  lightning  of  the 
smile  (aforementioned),  and  his  manner  was  as 
finished  as  a  cavalier's.  He  also  received  from  me 
some  cigars,  which  he  would  not  smoke  on  the  box, 
till  he  had  asked  whether  it  Mould  be  offensive  to 
the  Signora.  When  he  alighted  to  walk  up  the 
steep  hills,  he  often  took  down  K.  at  her  request, 
and  trudged  along  with  her,  holding  her  little  white 
hand  in  his  huge  brown  one  ;  while  she  was  as  meek 
as  a  lamb,  quite  adoring  him.  When  he  had  recov- 
ered his  spirits  this  morning,  he  resumed  his  inter- 
course with  the  children,  and  his  cordial  deep-voiced 
"Si,  Signora,"  "Si,  Signore,"  were  reviving  to  hear 
again — with  the  accompaniment  of  a  beam  from  his 
lustrous  eyes. 

He  put  J on  one  of  the  leaders  of  our  horse- 


536  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

power,  when  the  postilion  was  off,  to  please  him  with 
riding  for  a  few  minutes,  pretending  to  drive  full 
speed,  and  taking  the  real  postilion  on  the  box,  for 
a  change.  In  every  way  he  was  genial  and  also 
creative,  carrying  a  sense  of  power  with  him  ;  a 
much  higher  order  of  person  than  our  rustic  old 
Gaetano,  also  good  and  kind,  however.  I  dare  say 
the  Emperor  thought  us  rather  scrimping  to  the 
waiter  of  the  Imperial  Hotel,  and  therefore  he  felt 
that  unease  which  a  generous  person  always  feels 
when  he  thinks  there  is  any  meanness  around  him. 
But  after  my  remark  about  the  Yiterban,  he  settled 
his  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  comforted  himself, 
as  he  saw  no  other  sign  of  close  bargaining. 

Now  we  came  in  sight  of  a  small  and  lovely  lake, 
the  Lago  di  Yico,  and  a  mangificent  panorama 
spread  out  before  us.  The  lovely  lake,  almost  sur- 
rounded by  dense,  rich  v/oods,  but  at  our  height 
(3,000  feet  above  sea-level)  quite  revealed  in  its 
pale,  gleaming  beauty,  lay  below  us,  very  near. 
Far  beyond,  stretched  in  every  direction  a  vast 
plain,  commingling  all  soft  tints  of  green,  melting 
into  bluish  tones  near  the  mountain  ranges  :  on 
the  horizon,  the  entire  chain  of  the  Apennines,  the 
Alban  hills,  and  the  remotest  Yolcian  line.  The 
vast  plain  was  the  ever-memorable  Campagna, 
wearing  an  air  of  innocence  and  peace,  yet  holding 
beneath  its  emerald  turf  the  mysterious  talons  of 
death  for  those  who  were  beguiled  to  its  charms. 
"Lone  Soracte's   height,"  p-edsely   like   a   mighty 


nETURNING   TO  R0ME—8ETTE  VENE.         537 

"wind-swept  wave,"  rose  immediately  from  tlie  leyel 
land,  "pausing  in  its  curl,"  as  if  suddenly  turned  to 
stone.  It  is  only  on  this  road  from  Florence  that 
Byron's  perfect  truthfulness  of  figure  can  be  appre- 
ciated ;  for  it  w^as  the  route  lie  followed.  So  im- 
mense is  the  Campagna,  and  the  distances  and  our 
elevation  also,  that  Soracte  did  not  appear  very  high 
as  we  looked  down  upon  it.  It  was  not  till  we 
approached  nearer  to  it  that  the  remoter  mountains 
no  longer  overtopped  it.  But  in  all  relations  or  in 
an}^  relation  it  is  a  grand  object,  rushing  up  in  a 
curve  from  the  wide  plain.  I  have  a  pencil-sketch, 
but  the  turquoise  sky,  the  emerald  turf  with  its 
tourmaline  changes,  and  the  golden  air  taking  ame- 
thystine tints  on  the  remoter  hills — these  I  cannot 
sketch.  And  the  vastness,  the  poetrj^,  the  history, 
the  fascination  cannot  be  sketched.  They  cannot 
be  put  into  the  nib  of  a  diamond-pointed  pen,  nor 
into  the  finest  camel's-liair  pencil.  These  all  per- 
sons must  come  and  see  and  feel. 

The  azure  lake  holds  doNvn  in  its  depths  the  citj 
of  Succinium,  swallowed  up  by  a  convulsion  of  na- 
ture long  ago,  like  so  many  other  Italian  cities,  and 
the  water  takes  the  place  of  the  former  crater  of  a 
volcano.  Ancient  writers  say  that,  on  a  clear  day, 
one  can  see  the  domes  and  towers  of  the  city  at  the 
bottom  of  the  lake.  Why  not?  If  I  were  tlie 
Pope  I  would  drain  off  the  water  and  find  my  city. 
It  might  reveal  even  antediluvian  secrets  and  treas- 
ures.    How  short-sighted  and  dull  are  Popes,  to  put 


538.  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

into  their  tiaras  tlie  millions  that  might  be  spent  in 
draining  seas  aM'ay  from  drowned  kingdoms ! 

But  I  was  not  thinking  of  Popes,  as  "  I  drank  the 
beauty  of  that  spectacle"  this  morning ;  for  though 
Rome  can  sometimes  be  seen  from  that  point  of 
Yiew,  yet  I  did  not  then  see  it,  and  I  suppose  the 
purple  mists  blurred  it  out  of  the  landscape. 


"We  passed  through  the  old  town  of  Roncigiione, 
placed  on  a  rock,  clustering  round  a  castle  as  usual, 
with  a  rich  dell  on  one  side.  As  we  drove  along  we 
saw  ruined  palaces,  and  many  relics  of  grandeur, 
but  all  dilapidated  and  begrimed.  An  Etruscan 
city  once  stood  there,  and  there  were  sepulchral 
chambers  in  the  sides  of  the  ravine.  With  what  a 
carefulness  men  buried  their  dead  in  the  ancient 
times !  What  efforts  to  countervene  the  Eternal 
word  that  we  must  return  to  dust,  and  what  tender 
love  for  the  deserted  body !  Now  it  is  too  much  the 
reverse  here.  In  Eome  there  is  something  frightful 
in  the  way  the  dead  are  disposed  of,  unless  it  be  a 
dead  prince  or  millionaire/ 

Between  Eoncigiione  and  Monterosso  I  thought 
E.  had  better  go  inside  the  carriage,  and,  looking  in, 
we  found  that  Ada  and  U.  were  not  there.     Mr.  H. 

and  J hastened  back  to  search  for  them,  for  it  was 

impossible  to  turn  round  a  carriage  and  horses  that 
reached  nearly  from  one  post  to  another.  E.  and  I 
drove  slowly  on  to  Monterosso,  and  drew  up  there 


BETURNINO   TO  R0ME—8ETTE  VENE.         539 

in  its  one  narrow  street  to  wait.  In  half  an  lionr  tlicy 
came  to  iis. 

At  Monterosso  tlie  air  was  black  witli  flies,  which 
tumbled  about  my  hands  and  face  in  heaps.  A 
reail}^  clean  man  stood  at  the  door  of  a  cafe,  bj  the 
side  of  a  comfortable-looking  prelate,  in  fine  broad- 
cloth. Otherwise  I  could  see  nothing  clean  there. 
But  at  the  end  of  the  vista  of  the  street  opened  out 
the  campagna  and  the  mountains.  There  certainly 
are  disadvantages  in  building  eternities  of  stone 
houses,  which  cannot  decay,  so  that  the  grime  of 
Eons  remains.  If  they  were  wood  they  would  now 
and  then  be  burnt ;  but,  as  it  is,  there  is  nothing  for 
them  but  to  be  swallowed  up  like  Succiuium.  How 
easy  it  is  to  see  the  cause  of  depopulating  plagues 
in  these  foul  old  towns,  so  pressed  into  a  mass. 
and  cleanliness  and  godliness  having  centuries  ago 
taken  flight  together,  leaving  not  even  their  idea  be- 
hind !  Every  one  of  them  needs  a  Hercules  to  its 
Augean  stables.  It  would  take  a  demigod's  nose, 
at  least,  to  endure  such  odors  as  vilify  their  atmos- 
pheres, and  a  hand  powerful  enougli  to  turn  the 
Mediterranean  in  upon  them.  Eaugli !  for  Monte- 
rosso ;  and  faugh- er  for  Bolsena,  where  the  people 
had  nothing  clean  but  their  eyes.  I  wish  I  could 
cease  to  speak  on  this  subject. 

Here,  at  Sette  Vene,  however,  it  is  veiw  nice,  be- 
cause there  are  no  houses  except  the  hotel,  and  no 
people  to  be  seen.  This  night  is  of  a  clearness  that 
no  person  can  conceive  who  lives  anywhere  else  than 


540 


NOTES  IN  ITALY. 


in  Italy  or  Syria.  The  stars  do  not  sliine  pretty 
brightly  :  they  pierce  the  pellucid  air  with  diamond 
rays  in  a  glow  of  splendor  wonderful  to  behold. 
Jupiter  is  like  a  wheel  of  prisms,  each  spoke  a  living 
beam,  restlessly  burning,  a.nd  each  one  of  a  different 
hue,  but  changing  one  into  the  other  in  a  lovely  con- 
fusion of  crimson,  violet,  and  gold,  as  if  it  were  a 
bonfire  of  jewels,  blazing  with  a  beautiful  fierceness. 
Jupiter  bears  the  palm  ;  but  there  is  every  degree  of 
glory  from  that  to  lesser  dignities.  The  half-moon 
also  shines  without  the  thinnest  veil  over  the  dazzle 
of  her  radiance.  And  this  is  the  atmosphere  of  the 
fatal  Campagna. 


V. 

EOME. 

October  IStli. 

"We  left  Sette  Vene  on  the  16th,  and  soon  arrived 
on  the  nearest  rim  of  an  enormous  crater  of  an  ex- 
tinct volcano,  several  miles  in  diameter.  In  the 
centre  is  the  small  town  of  Baccano,  so  called  from 
a  temple  to  Bacchus  once  standing  there.  We 
passed  through  it,  and  when  we  mounted  the  faither 
edge,  then  at  last  Vt'e  saw  Rome  afar  oft,  its  towers, 
pinnacles,  and  the  Dome — which,  however,  at  such  a 
distance  was  not  so  proudlj^  pre-eminent  as  it  be- 
came on  nearer  approach.  I  felt  a  keen  delight  at 
seeing  again  the  citj  of  cities.  It  was  a  singular 
sense  of  going  home  that  I  had,  a  sense,  too,  that 
everything  was  there,  in  the  dream-city,  as  it  looked 
in  the  pale  mist  that  half  veiled  it  and  its  lovely  sea 
of  mountains  beyond  and  around.  On  my  mind  it 
had  risen  in  stupendous  grandeur  before  I  left  Flor- 
ence, looming  up  far  over  all  other  places  inhabited 
by  man.  I  can  now  understand  the  irresistible  at- 
traction it  has  to  those  who  return  a  second  time, 
and  how  it  must  become  a  sort  of  necessity  of  the 


543  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

soul  to  live  here — either  to  remain  or  constantly  to 
return. 

All  have  been  out  to  walk  excepting  myself,  and 
all  testify  to  the  surprising  stafceliness  and  majesty  of 
the  temples,  palaces,  and  piazzas,  so  that  now  they 
seem  first  really  to  see  Kome.  I  have  yet  to  experi- 
ence this.  Now  I  go  back  We  bade  the  Emperor 
bring  his  horses  to  a  pause  on  the  outer  rim  of  the 
crater,  so  that  those  of  us  within  the  carriage  might 
alight  and  see  the  whole  circle  of  mountains,  and  the 
broad  expanse  of  Carapagn^a  at  one  glance.  Costan- 
tino  took  off  his  cap  and  said,  "Roma!"  for  he  is  a 
Roman,  and  probably  felt  exultant  at  seeing  it  again. 

J gave  a  shout,  and  then  we  all  gazed  in  silence 

for  some  time.  I  thought  I  saw  the  tower  which 
marks  the  site  of  Corioli,  which  brought  to  naind 
that  heroic  story  of  Coriolanus  as  Shakspeare  ren- 
ders it.  I  tried  to  find  the  place  of  Yeii,  and  of  other 
renowned  old  cities,  all  wiped  off  the  plain  by  the 
terrible  and  desolating  hand  of  Rome,  who  grasped 
every  body  and  thing,  and  drew  into  itself  what  it 
wanted  of  them,  and  pitilessly  destroyed  all  the  rest 
utterly.  Its  power  of  appropriation,  doubtless,  ex 
ceeded  that  of  any  other  known  state.  It  builded 
with  the  world's  best  architects,  adorned  itself  with 
the  world's  masterpieces  in  the  arts,  and  fought 
with  the  world's  strongest  and  bravest.  Wherever 
it  would  go,  it  constructed  such  roads  that  time  has 
no  effect  upon  them,  with  the  skilfullest  heads  and 
hands   that   the    conquered    world    could    furnish, 


ROME.  .  543 

Genius,  Beauty,  Efficiency— wherever  the  Imperial 
Eagle   could   see   them— were    pounced  upon    and 
swooped  up  into  the  possession  and  service  of  this 
absorbing    domination.      I    well   remember,   as    a 
youthful    student,    how    the    Koman    legions,    with 
which  I   always    sided  and  fought,  seemed  to  me 
the    sole    rightful    victors,    so    fascinating    to    the 
imauination   is   success.     I  then  devoutly  believed 
that  a  Eoman  was  a  cunning  composition   of    per- 
fect honor,  bravery,  and  virtue  (not  virtue  in  a  Latin 
meaning,  but  Christian).     I  thought  a  Eoman  never 
ate,  or  rather  I  did  not  think  of  his  eating.     I  sup- 
posed he  lived  on  glory,  a  kind  of   whip  syllabub 
which  I  now  know  could  never  make  sinews.     The 
Conscript  Fathers  stood  with  me   for   all  majesty, 
patriotism,  and  wisdom!     A  sort  of  diffused  Julius 
Csesar  perpetually   dictated  to  the   known   world. 
Eoman   matrons  were   ideal  womanhood,  "  without 
suspect."     My  eyes  were  holden,  so  that  I  could  not 
seethe  sin  or  the  shame  ;  or  a  prism  was  over  them, 
through  which  the  Empire  flashed  with  the  seven 
colors  with  which  light  paints  rainbows.     I  review 
history  now,  and  perceive  the  truth  better,  and  the 
six   thousand    crucified    men    of    Crassus,  whom  it 
pleased  him  to  put  in  agony  all  at  the  same  moment, 
would  forever  throw  into  black  eclipse  my  flashing 
Empire,  were  no  other  of  its  countless  crimes  to  be 
brought  into  the  account.     Yet  history  might  never 
have  destroyed  my  fancies,  if  I  had  not  come  to 
Eome.     Here  I  both  feel  how  it  all  was,  and,  strange 


544  .NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

to  saj,  I  am  also  magnetized  with  the  power  that 
hovers  invisibly  in  this  air,  like  the  spirit  of  the 
eagle  that  never  stooped  in  the  hand  of  the  E-oman 
standard-bearer.  What,  then,  is  this  Rome  that 
ivill  hold  sway  over  mankind,  whether  or  no,  in  past 
and  present  time  ?  I  have  an  idea,  but  it  is  folded 
up  in  a  veil,  and  I  cannot  take  this  moment  to 
answer  my  question. 

So  we  paused,  and  gazed  from  the  edge  of  the 
Crater,  in  profound  silence,  upon  the  silvery  vision 
of  sovereign  Kome,  reposing  alone  in  the  midst  of 
the  vast  desolation  it  has  made  ;  and,  in  return  for 
slain  millions,  receiving,  for  poetical]}'  just  guerdon, 
the  fatal  breath  of  this  malaria,  which,  it  is  said,  will 
eventually  make  the  city  itself  uninhabitable.  I 
thought  of  this  ;  but  yet  I  exulted,  with  all  my  heart, 
that  I  Avas  again  looking  upon  it,  and  again  hasten- 
ing to  it. 

The  Emperor  broke  my  spell  by  suddenly  asking 
if  he  might  drive  on,  and,  with  a  salvo  of  small  ar- 
tillery from  his  whip,  we  rushed  forv^ard,  J de- 
claring that  "the  horses  knew  they  were  going  to 
Kome,  and  pricked  up  their  ears  and  struck  out 
accordir]gl3\"  We  were,  indeed,  all  so  glad  that  I 
think  the  very  carriage  must  have  sympathized,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  generous  steeds.  We  saw  soli- 
tary towers  in  the  plains,  and  short,  stout  columns 
that  seemed  eternal  memorials  of  some  events,  of 
such  a  girth,  that,  with  their  rounded  tops,  I  am 
sure  Time  may  try  at  them  in  vain,  till  Time  shall  be 


ROME.  545 

no  longer.  If  fire  can  dissolve  stone,  earth's  central 
lieart  niiglit  liquefy  them,  were  they  swallowed  up  by 
an  earthquake.  Otherwise,  they  stand  forever.  We 
passed  the  traditional  tomb  of  Nero,  whose  piteous, 
wretched  death  always  makes  me  feel  unhapp}-  when 
it  is  brought  to  mind,  and  even  makes  me  wish  to 
forgive  and  solace  him.  What  a  hell  he  suffered  in 
those  moments  !  He  certainly  atoned  for  all  his 
sins,  while  he  listened  to  the  tramp  of  those  horses, 
at  the  same  time  in  mortal,  cowardly  fear  of  his  ov/u 
sword. 

Seven  miles  from  Rome,  at  a  sudden  turn,  St. 
Peter's  burst  upon  us  with  perfect  distinctness,  very 
grand,  and  brought  me  back  from  classic  Rome  and 
its  horrors  and  enchantments  for  awhile.  Many 
lesser  domes  and  campaniles  came  to  view,  but  no 
Coliseum  and  Claudian  arches  on  this  side.  We 
crossed  the  Ponte  Molle,  very  memorable  for  the 
battle  between  Constantine  and  Maxentius,  fought 
upon  and  near  it,  when  it  was  the  Milvian  bridge. 
Hereabouts  in  the  Tiber,  still  lies  imbedded  the 
seven-branched  golden  candlestick  brought  by  Titus 
from  Jerusalem — a  likeness  of  which  we  see  sculp- 
tured on  his  triumphal  arch.  Then  we  proceeded 
along  the  Flaminian  Way,  into  the  Porta  del  Popolo, 
and  paused  half  an  hour  at  the  Dogano,  during 
which  time  I  joyfully  greeted  the  oldest  obelisk  in 
the  world,  which  Moses  looked  upon  in  Egypt ;  now 
standing  in  the  centre  of  the  piazza,  with  its  fountain 
and  four  lions,  uttering  continual  jef-s  cVeau. 


54G  NOTES  IN  ITALY. 

Tlience  we  drove  to  our  apartments  in  the  Piazza 
Poli. 

I  must  not  close  my  notes  of  travel  without  ex- 
pressing how  perpetual  wonder  and  admiration  were 
excited  in  me  by  the  superb  roads  over  which  we 
drove  in  both  routes.  Not  a  roughness  or  break  in 
the  smooth  marmoreal  surfaces  from  one  end  to  the 
other.  Not  one  single  jar  in  all  the  miles  we  have 
voyaged,  excepting  the  jar  on  the  paved  Cassian 
Way,  inevitable  over  actual  stones,  how  smooth  so- 
ever they  may  be.  We  went  to  not  one  intolerable 
inn  even  in  the  smallest  town  ;  and  I  can  conceive 
of  no  more  delectable  mode  of  exploration  than  this 
yettura  plan. 

We  hire  a  private  carriage  built  for  such  uses. 
The  body  of  it  is  like  a  private  coach,  with  seats 
inside  for  four  persons.  Ours  was  larger,  nicer,  and 
easier  than  usual.  In  front  is  a  comfortable  coifpe 
for  two,  open  to  all  the  prospect,  but  capable  of 
being  entirely  closed  from  rain  or  wind  by  a  skil- 
fully-contrived glass  folded  window,  that  can  be  let 
down  when  desired.  Still  in  front  of  the  coui^g  is  the 
vetturino's  box,  which  is  large  enough  for  two  per- 
sons ;  and  the  stout  Emperor,  J ,  and  H.,  all  sat 

together  on  it  sometimes.  At  the  summit  of  this 
large  building  is  a  mighty  receptacle  for  bags  and 
all  ■'  piccola  roba,"  and  behind  it  safe  and  ample 
harborage  for  trunks  and  clumsy  luggage ;  and  be- 
neath is  a  suspended  tray  or  large  basket  for  dogs, 
or  other  pet  beasties,  to  rest  in — or  for  any  "  roba" 


ROME.  547 

that  can  take  dust  and  sliakiug.  Over  all  the  lug- 
gage are  canopies  of  india-rubber  and  leather  against 
wet,  and  inside  the  carriage  are  bands  or  straps  of 
leather  net-work,  for  shawls  and  umbrellas,  and 
books  and  knick-knacks  for  constant  use,  affixed  to 
the  roof,  and  pockets  at  the  sides.  Plenty  of  room 
also  in  the  coupe  and  under  the  vetturino's  box  for 
carpets  and  sacks.  Fancy  all  this,  drawn  along  by 
six  and  sometimes  seven  horses  stretching  out  be- 
fore, often  with  two  oxen  in  addition  for  steep  hills ! 
Then  we  make  a  written  contract  with  the  vetturino, 
that  he  shall  order  our  meals  and  apartments  of 
suitable  quality  at  all  the  inns ;  and,  besides  being 
our  commissary  of  provisions  and  rooms,  we  make 
him  our  purser — all  this  for  a  certain  amount  agreed 
upon.  Thus  we  have  no  care,  no  bills,  no  bargain- 
ing, and  no  imposition.  The  vetturino  is  our  coach- 
man, our  major-domo,  and  our  steward,  and  strives 
to  do  well  for  the  sake  of  the  huon^  mano  at  the  end, 
which  varies  with  his  behavior.  It  is  the  most  com- 
plete system,  especially'  with  men  so  remarkable  as 
ours  were,  and  all  goes  merry  from  morn  to  dewy 
eve.  The  only  payment  we  make  is  to  the  table- 
waiters,  and  the  Yiterban  was  the  only  one  who  gave 
us  any  annoyance.  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  more 
charming  way  of  travelling,  especially  when  one  can 
have  an  emperor  like  our  Costantino,  or  a  good  old 
Gaffer  like  Gaetano  for  master  of  ceremonies.  We 
write  in  the  contract  what  places,  and  for  how  long, 
we  wish  to  stop  at,  and  thus  have  everything  fixed 


548  WOTES  IN  ITALY. 

our  own  way.  Those  persons  wlio  care  for  vei'y 
dainty  and  peculiar  dishes  prefer-  to  order  their  own 
meals  ;  but  they  have  much  trouble,  and  are  obliged 
to  spend  precious  time  discoursing  with  innkeepers, 
besides  being  obliged  to  pay  thrice  as  much  as  the 
vetturino  pays  for  sufficient  and  excellent  food,  quite 
satisfactory  to  lovers  of  art  and  landscape,  rather 
than  of  Apician  feasts. 

October  20th. — This  morning  to  the  Palazzo  Cor- 
sini,  whose  gallery  we  did  not  once  visit  last  winter. 
"We  went  into  Saiut  Andrea  delle  Palle,  on  the  way 
to  see  Domenichino's  frescoes.  The  church  stands 
on  the  site  of  the  Curia  of  Pompey,  where  Csesar' 
fell. 

At  the  four  corners  of  the  dome  are  the  four 
Evangelists,  reminding  one  of  Michel  Angelo's  pro- 
phets. There  is  wonderful  fire  and  tone  in  their 
expression,  and  lovely  little  cherubs  surround  them. 
In  one  compartment  are  several  of  these  baby -forms 
playing  with  a  lion  as  with  a  pet-dog  or  a  kitten. 
That  prophecy  of  Christian  love  and  peace  has  not 
yet  been  fulfilled  ;  but  the  genius  of  Domenichino 
presents  it  hourly  here  for  consideration  and  imita- 
tion. It  is  amazing  how  slow  we  are,  though  the 
divinest  forms,  in  marble  and  color,  forever  speak  to 
the  eye,  in  all  degrees  of  beautj^  and  truth  ;  and 
incredible  it  is  that  where  these  most  abound,  there 
seems  not  to  be  more  of  the  spirit  and  practice  of 
good  than  in  less  favored  lands.     In  Italy,  architec- 


BOME.  549 

ture,  sculpture,  painting,  music,  all  do  their  utmost. 
Thousands  of  Gothic  pinnacles  and  arches  point  to 
heaven.  On  every  church-wall  Christ  dies  for  us^ 
is  mocked  and  scourged,  and  bears  his  Cross,  and 
also  rises  in  glory.  To  his  written  words  we  do 
not  listen,  and  to  his  pictured  life  and  ideas  men 
are  blind,  though  they  blaze  in  splendor  on  every 
side. 

P.  S. — My  journal  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  illness — even 
in  the  midst  of  a  sentence,  and  was  never  resumed ;  whicli  will 
account  for  the  abruptness  of  the  close. 


